


Tempest

by MugetsuPipefox



Series: Albion's Greatest Need [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 02:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2675126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MugetsuPipefox/pseuds/MugetsuPipefox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel/continuation of The Solemnity of Merlin. Arthur's getting acquainted with modern society, but he's not the only one to return. Old enemies resurface with a plot for revenge and it will take Merlin, Arthur and lost friends to overcome this new threat to Albion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Getting Arthur acquainted with the modern world was one of the hardest and most tiring things Merlin had ever had to do. And he had _a lot_ of things to compare it to. Merlin had been there each time a new discovery had been released to the public; he had been able to adapt to the changes over time, like the rest of the population. He found that he didn't really need to know how things worked, simply accepting that they did. And, he had to admit, some of these new inventions were incredibly convenient. Imagine how much simpler his Camelot life would have been if they'd had vacuum cleaners or cars. He'd have been able to get to all those places that had taken days of travel in a matter of hours.   
  
Unfortunately, Arthur wasn't given this period of adaption. He didn't even get to have it explained to him over a number of years without anything to compare the changes to, like children did. No, he had it dumped on him all at once. To say he was confused was an understatement. With every piece of technology he was introduced to whose workings he couldn't explain he blamed on magic.  
  
Merlin was getting frustrated.  
  
For both Arthur's safety and Merlin's already deteriorated mental health, Arthur had been placed under house arrest until he no longer jumped when the light turned on when he opened the fridge, or when water came gushing out of the tap preheated.   
  
Thankfully, Merlin didn't have much in the way of technology; he preferred to live in the comforts of centuries passed. His room was more like a study with a bed than a bedroom. He had shelves lined with books of varying ages, although the magic book Gaius had given him was still his favourite. As the years passed and the book began showing signs of wearing and damage, he had used magic to cast protective spells over it and to repair it. He cast the same charm over the other books when he had announced that Arthur would be using his room until he could organise another one. It was unlikely that Arthur would take interest in his collection, but he felt he should take the precaution anyway. Arthur wasn't exactly known for being gentle.  
  
Aithusa seemed to be the only one that found the whole integration process remotely funny. She took great pleasure in seeing Arthur survive a dozen or so near-heart attacks each day. Although, Merlin though he caught a glimpse of Kilgharrah smiling in amusement on more than one occasion.   
  
For Merlin it was frustrating. For Arthur it was a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

 

" _Mer_ lin!"  
  
Merlin sighed for the umpteenth time that morning and turned away from the book he had been reading. Arthur was watching him from his seat on the couch with an expression of utmost irritation.   
  
"Yes, Arthur?" he asked, although he had a pretty good idea of what Arthur was going to say. After all, he'd been saying it at every chance he got over the last few days.  
  
"Can't I go outside? You've locked me up in here for days!" Arthur grumbled.  
  
"You sound like a five year old," Merlin returned his gaze to the book. "Have you gotten over your fear of the radio yet?"  
  
"I'm not _scared_ of it, _Mer_ lin… I just wasn't expecting it to start talking."  
  
"Right," Merlin didn't believe it for a second. "Well, until you adjust to the meagre technology here, I'm not letting you out. You'll end up getting yourself run over or arrested or something."  
  
"Arrested? I'm the king!"  
  
"Not anymore, you're not." That seemed to be the hardest thing for Arthur to come to terms with. He no longer had any authority. Whatsoever. Merlin was starting to feel more like a babysitter than a manservant. Which he probably was.  
  
Arthur sighed and looked out the window behind him. He had tried to sneak out one time when Merlin had fallen asleep, only to find the door had been locked with magic. _Damn sorcerer_ , he mentally cursed. Then Merlin had gone off and disappeared for hours, saying he was going to get 'necessities' for him. Arthur saw this as the perfect opportunity to get some fresh air… only to be stopped by two small dragons who had been 'left in charge'. It was insulting! He was the king, for God's sake! Dragons couldn't tell him what to do! Although, they were very persuasive, what with those sharp teeth and claws. He hadn't seen either of them breathe fire yet, but he wouldn't put it past them. Not to mention Merlin's seeming belief that he could order him around. Merlin was a _servant_ (*cough*friend*cough*). And not a very good one, either. But he had magic, and now that Arthur knew about it, Merlin hadn't hesitated to use it around him. Another persuasive technique.   
  
But the thought of sitting around doing nothing for one more day made him persevere. Couldn't Merlin see he was going crazy?  
  
"What if we just go to the lake or something? We don't have to go anywhere populated. I just need to get out of this house for a while."  
  
Merlin gave an expression of mock hurt. "What, you don't like my house?"  
  
"No, actually. It's too small."  
  
"You'd better get used to it, cause I have no intention of moving."  
  
A scratching at the door caught both of their attentions.   
  
"Meeeeerliiiiiin," a female voice called in a sing-song tone. "Let us iiiiiiiin!"  
  
With barely a glance, the door swung open slightly and two small dragons wandered in. As soon as the two were inside, the door closed itself with a barely audible 'click'.  
  
"How come they get to go outside but I'm stuck in here?" Arthur complained. "Surely two dragons would be more noticeable than me."  
  
"Kilgharrah and Aithusa know not to go near other people and have enough sense not to get themselves lost or killed."  
  
"Are you calling me stupid?"  
  
"You said it, not me," Merlin grinned.  
  
Arthur grabbed the nearest thing within his reach (which happened to be a pillow) and launched it at Merlin. Being more comfortable using magic around him now, Merlin was fully prepared to stop the 'weapon' in mid air and send it back to Arthur, but was beaten to the chase by Aithusa, who jumped up and grabbed the pillow in her jaws.  
  
"Aithusa, you are not a dog," Kilgharrah sighed.  
  
Aithusa appeared to think differently as she began munching away on the pillow.   
  
"Aithusa, if you destroy that pillow, I'll stuff you as a replacement," Merlin said seriously.  
  
Although Aithusa knew that he was unlikely to make good on that threat due to being one of the last of her kind, she wouldn't put it past him to magically transform her into a living pillow, at least for a little while, and promptly dropped the pillow with a sheepish smile.  
  
Kilgharrah sighed again in exasperation. The things he had to put up with.  
  
"Al _right_ ," Merlin announced after a few minutes of silence, in which Arthur continued to bore a hole into his skull with his gaze. "You win! I'll take you into town. But you have to promise to listen to everything I say. I don't want to have to use my magic to get you out of trouble."  
  
"What's wrong with using magic in public? Surely by now the ban has been lifted?" Arthur asked, confusion overriding his sense of victory.  
  
"It's not like it's illegal," Merlin said slowly, thinking of the best way to explain this. "More like it doesn't really exist; at least, people don't think it does. If I go around magically doing everything, people will get scared and there is no way I'm going to an insane asylum or being tested on."  
  
That didn't really seem fair to Arthur, not that he'd ever admit he felt bad on Merlin's behalf. Why should Merlin have to continue to hide a part of himself after everything he's done, everything he's been through?  
  
"Can I come?" Aithusa piped up.  
  
"What was that you said about dragons having sense?" Arthur asked mockingly. If looks could kill, he would be dead three times over.   
  
"If you like," Merlin replied to Aithusa. "Do you want to come, too, Kilgharrah?"  
  
"As much as I hate that form, I fear that you'd cause too many problems without me," the golden dragon directed the last part to Arthur, who had sense enough not to reply.  
  
Merlin smiled. "You have my permission to bite him if you feel it's necessary."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"I am _not_ putting _any_ part of him in my mouth."  
  
He wasn't sure why, but Arthur felt slightly insulted by that.   
  
"Who wants to go first?" Merlin stood, closing his book.  
  
"First?" Arthur frowned.  
  
"Ooh! Me! Me!" Aithusa jumped up on her back legs a few times in excitement.  
  
Kilgharrah shook his head. She was still young, but she had the mind of an ancient. Why couldn't she act like one?  
  
Merlin found only amusement in her excitement and knelt down to her height. Aithusa grew still (a remarkable achievement) as Merlin placed a hand on her forehead and murmured a few words in the language of the Old Religion, eyes flashing gold briefly. Arthur watched in fascination as Aithusa's body began to morph and change until her form was unrecognizable. Standing before Merlin now, instead of a dragon, was a pure white dog. Aithusa's much shorter tail wagged happily as she admired her new form.  
  
"Your turn, Kilgharrah," Merlin turned to the small Great Dragon who looked anything but pleased. Nevertheless, he came forward and allowed Merlin to repeat the process on him.  
  
Arthur concluded that they looked much less menacing as dogs than as dragons.  
  
Merlin got up and opened a drawer in a small table-cabinet near the door, pulling out two leads and collars. Both dragons (dogs?) visibly deflated at their appearance.  
  
"As if this form wasn't embarrassing enough," Kilgharrah muttered.  
  
"Do we _have_ to wear those?" Aithusa whined.  
  
"Sorry, but you know what those people are like; they probably think you're going to run off and attack someone. It's for their sake, not yours."  
  
"Fine." Aithusa allowed the collar to be placed around her neck but quickly jumped away when Merlin attempted to connect the lead.  
  
"Aithusa," Merlin reprimanded.  
  
"Oh, come on! I promise I won't walk off on my own! And I won't attack anybody! Even if they _do_ have roasted chickens."  
  
Arthur got the distinct impression that there was a specific incident behind that last comment.  
  
Merlin sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Okay. Okay. But the second you misbehave, the leash goes on."  
  
Aithusa grinned and happily trotted over to the door, waiting for them to go.   
  
Kilgharrah grumbled as his own collar was put on, but like Aithusa, he went without the leash. He was more than sensible enough not to steal peoples' shopping or attack other dogs.  
  
And, without further ado, the four of them headed out of the house, heading towards the town.  
  
 _I'm going soft_ , Merlin thought as the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Five minutes of walking through the town had Arthur wanting to turn around and go back to that house of boredom. At least Merlin's house had recognizable features. This was like no town Arthur had ever been to. The road appeared to be made out of some solid black substance that Merlin had called 'tar', and the only thing he could identify besides trees and buildings (and even they didn’t look right) were the people – even if they were wearing rather strange clothes. Although, to be fair, so was he; Merlin had told him that chainmail and armour was not an acceptable attire. What was wrong with this new world?  
  
Arthur had so many questions. What were those tall posts with strange bauble-like contraptions on the end? Or the other posts that were joined by thick black cables? Or–   
  
His thoughts were abruptly cut short as a large, metal _thing_ sped past along the road. Arthur jumped, taking a large step in the opposite direction. Aithusa struggled to keep her mirth under control (it probably wouldn't go down well for a 'dog' to burst into a fit of laughter). Merlin stopped a few paces ahead with his head hung low.  
  
"Relax," he turned and gave Arthur a reassuring smile. "It's just a car. It won't hurt you unless you walk out into the middle of the road."  
  
"I'm not _scared_ ," Arthur said indignantly.  
  
"If you say so," Merlin raised both eyebrows and continued on down the road, followed closely by Kilgharrah and a snickering Aithusa.  
  
Arthur made a point of glaring at her as he moved into step behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwendolyn smiled cheerfully as she brought a coffee to a woman seated at table 23. She only had to work for five more minutes before her break.   
  
" _What are we doing here?_ " a masculine voice caught her attention and she looked up to the entrance where two young men had just entered.  
  
" _I want you to try something_ ," the dark haired man replied to his blonde companion.  
  
" _Why does that not fill me with confidence?_ "  
  
The other man grinned but didn't comment as they walked up to the counter.  
  
Gwen paused her clearing of a table as she watched the two place their orders, a strange feeling overcoming her. It was almost like she knew them from somewhere but couldn't remember exactly where. Stranger still, she was sure she hadn't seen either of them before in her life. She stood dumbfounded for the duration of their time in the café, only freed from her stupor when they left again, each holding a take-away cup. Even then she watched them through the window where they untied two dogs from a post and went on their way.  
  
"Gwen? Are you alright?"  
  
Gwen shot her head around to see one of her co-workers standing behind her with a concerned expression.   
  
"Ah, yeah, fine," she shook her head a bit to clear it. "Just thought I saw someone I knew."  
  
She hadn't even noticed that they weren't speaking English, or that she had somehow understood anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur looked down at the disposable cup warming his hand. Merlin had called it 'hot chocolate' – whatever chocolate was. Merlin noticed his apprehension and smiled.  
  
"Go on," he encouraged. "Try it!" He took a sip of his own as if that would ease Arthur's suspicions.  
  
The two dog-dragons were still grumbling about being tied up and left outside but Merlin and Arthur had opted to ignore them after the first few apologies that were dished out.  
  
Arthur hesitantly raised the cup to his lips and took a small sip. Whatever he had been expecting it wasn't this. It was sweet, but not unpleasantly so. He couldn't say it was the best thing he'd ever drunk, but it was up there.  
  
"So? What do you think?" Merlin grinned excitedly.   
  
"It's alright," Arthur shrugged, taking another sip. He wouldn’t let Merlin know what he really thought of it. He didn't need encouraging. But it seemed Merlin saw straight through that lie, as his grin only grew. If that was possible.  
  
"How are you coping?"  
  
The sudden seriousness of Merlin's tone caught Arthur off guard. He didn't need clarification to know what Merlin was talking about. He was never comfortable with talking about feelings and other girly things that Merlin appeared to have no troubles with; 1500 years hadn't changed that. He doubted time ever would.  
  
"It's… different. It's like I've stepped into another world where nothing makes sense."  
  
"In a way, you have." Merlin avoided his gaze. "It's not easy to get used to, but I'm sure you'll adjust given time."   
  
Arthur nodded, but he didn't feel reassured. He was unsettled; everything he had ever known was gone. He was in a new world with new ideals and ways of doing things. Apart from Merlin (and maybe the dragons), there weren't even any people that he recognised or knew. There was almost nothing to give that sense of familiarity and comfort. Except of course for Merlin's house which, despite its size, was a blessing. Arthur was beginning to understand why Merlin had been putting off letting him go out.  
  
"I don't like the idea of leaving you on your own," Merlin began in a lighter tone, "but I have to work tomorrow. Kilgharrah and Aithusa will take care of you, though, so I guess you won't _really_ be on your own."  
  
 _Wait. What?_ "Work?" Arthur asked stupidly.  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. "Yes, clotpole, work. As in, doing tasks in exchange for money."  
  
"I know what working is, _Mer_ lin," Arthur scowled.  
  
"You didn't think I could get away with not working, did you? The world still revolves around money, you know."  
  
"Yes, but you work for me."  
  
"I highly doubt you have any money to pay me with, so I have to work. I can take a day off if you need me, though."  
  
Had Merlin not said it in such a condescending tone, Arthur would have liked the idea of Merlin taking a day off, not that he'd ever tell him that.  
  
"No, Merlin, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."  
  
Merlin looked doubtful. "Really? Because last I recall you needed help just getting dressed."  
  
"Idiot."  
  
"Dollophead."  
  
"Clotpole."  
  
"Prat."  
  
The familiar banter eased some of Arthur's tension. It felt like it had been forever since he'd been able to just relax without the weight of the kingdom and the expectation of his peers hanging over his shoulders. Maybe, in this life, he would be able to be normal; without the pressures society put on him. But then there was that 'catastrophic event' that had caused his resurrection. He hadn't been entirely sure what Merlin had been talking about, but he assumed it was the reason he was here now. Maybe he wasn't as free as he thought he was.

 

***

 

Merlin was glad when they finally returned home. He had been nervous about taking Arthur out into the town. Not to mention the endless questions he was expecting to be asked. But Arthur had, surprisingly, taken it all rather well. He could tell by the expressions Arthur tried to hide that he was overwhelmed by it all, but to hear him admit it was a small relief, strange as that was. Maybe it was because taking things too well would be more concerning than freaking out. Either way, Merlin was comfortable with Arthur's progress. He just hoped that Arthur would be settled enough to face whatever had made Fate decide it was time for him to return. If he hadn't come back during the wars, what was Albion's time of greatest need? Could it really be worse than those wars? Merlin didn't really care to find out.  
  
He was also feeling hesitant about going to work. He knew Kilgharrah and Aithusa would be able to watch over Arthur and make sure he didn't burn the house down or something like that, but it was so soon after his return. Being confused and alone wasn't really a good combination, and he knew Arthur wasn't entirely comfortable around the dragons, either.  
  
But, for Arthur's sake, Merlin hid his trepidations and anxieties behind the mask he had long thought no longer needed. If he was outwardly unnerved, then Arthur would be ten times worse. Arthur didn't need that. Neither of them needed that.  
  
Merlin squatted down and removed the collars from Kilgharrah and Aithusa, muttering the counter-spell to revert their forms. Both seemed much more comfortable in their own skin. The trip into town seemed to have tired them out (despite the ancientness of their minds, they were still only a few years old) and they moved to their favourite spots to curl up for a nap; Kilgharrah on the backrest of the couch and Aithusa sprawled across the rug. Merlin wondered how long it would be before the couch could no longer support Kilgharrah's weight. Maybe he'd have to put a strengthening spell on it…  
  
"So, Merlin," Arthur pulled him out of his thoughts. "What sort of work do you do, exactly?"

 

* * *

 

 

"Miss Hobson, it's a pleasure to have you here," Peter Rane held out his hand in greeting.  
  
"The pleasure's all mine," Morissa returned the gesture. "It's nice to be back home."  
  
"Steven highly recommended you, and I think I speak for the entire English branch when I say we're lucky you decided to return."  
  
Morissa thought back to her old boss in America, bringing a smile to her face. How would they manage without her? "I'm not sure I'll be able to live up to the exaggerations, but I'll do my best."  
  
"That's all we ask of you. Care to take a tour?"  
  
At her affirmative nod, Peter led her through the museum to each of the different departments, introducing her to her new colleagues. In America, she had been working specifically in the identification of religious artefacts from various ancient civilisations and, upon transferring back to England, had been offered a similar position in the sister Museum.  
  
"And here is the main staff common room, where you're more than welcome to kick back and relax on your breaks," Peter opened a 'staff-only' door, revealing a small lounge-like setting with a kitchenette along the side wall. "Most of the staff come in here at one point or another, so it's a good place to visit if the people in your department start to bore you."  
  
"Speak for yourself, Pete," a woman seated on the couch nursing a mug of coffee grinned. "Ain't nothing boring 'bout archaeology."  
  
"Oh please," Peter laughed. "You lot are the worst of the bunch!" He composed himself and returned his attention to Morissa. "You don't start for another half hour if you wanted to get acquainted with this lot," he gestured to the small group.  
  
"Sounds like fun," Morissa made herself comfortable on the couch beside the other woman.  
  
"Well, if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." And with that, Peter turned and disappeared out the door.  
  
"The name's Christine, but everyone calls me Chris," the woman shook her hand. "I work in archaeology, but you prob'ly heard."  
  
"Morissa," Morissa replied. "I just transferred from America, specialising in religious artefacts."  
  
"'S a big area."  
  
"It is, but I didn't want to limit myself to anything too specific. I need a bit of freedom in my work."  
  
"Fair enough," an older man mixing his tea looked back over his shoulder. "I'm Matt from entomology."  
  
"And I'm Renee, also from entomology," a red haired woman supplied from an armchair adjacent to the couch.  
  
"It's nice to meet you all."   
  
The door opened slightly and a dark haired man wearing a red neckerchief walked in. Without acknowledging anyone, he walked straight over to the kitchenette, poured boiling water into a mug, grabbed a tea bag and hurried back out the door.  
  
"That's Melvin," Chris explained, noticing what had caught Morissa's attention. "Don't worry 'bout 'im too much, he's not much of a people person. Sticks to 'imself mostly."  
  
"I wonder why," Morissa muttered to herself.  
  
"Dunno," Renee shrugged. "Most he's ever said to me was 'good morning'."  
  
"He works in archives and literature," Matt plonked himself down on the armrest of the armchair, forcing Renee to scoot over. "He's young, but incredibly good at what he does."  
  
"Hmm." There was something about him. Something Morissa couldn't quite put her finger on. He seemed almost… familiar. But surely she'd never seen him before?

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur sighed as he continued pacing the length of the room. It had only been a few hours since Merlin had left but he was already bored. Without kingly duties to keep him occupied, there really weren't many options. He couldn't remember the last occasion he'd had so much free time. What did Merlin do all these years? He couldn't have worked all day every day. Come to think of it, he'd disappeared for full days or longer more than once back in Camelot. What did he do then? Gaius had said he was at the tavern…   
  
Arthur paused in his pacing. Merlin had magic. Had had magic his entire life. It was more than likely Merlin hadn't gone to the tavern at all. Now that he thought about it, Arthur realised that there were many blanks, questions that he had simply ignored. Now he wanted the answers. _When Merlin gets back we're going to have a long talk_ , Arthur decided.  
  
But, until then, there was still the problem of boredom.  
  
"There must be _something_ to do in this place," he groaned.  
  
"You could always read a book," Kilgharrah shifted in his spot on the couch's backrest.  
  
Arthur looked at him as though he'd sprouted a second head.   
  
"It's not that bad," Aithusa rolled her eyes. "Merlin has lots of books. Maybe you'll find something that you're interested in."  
  
Not being able to come up with anything better to do, Arthur conceded, heading into the bedroom where the bookshelves were.   
  
Aithusa was right. Merlin did have a lot of books. Some of them appeared to be in languages Arthur had never even heard of. A particularly old looking book caught his eye. He reached up for it, but before his fingers could even get close to touching it, they struck a solid, invisible wall. He retracted his hand as though he'd been burned.  
  
"You can't touch that one."  
  
Arthur turned to see Aithusa watching him from the doorway. "Why not?"  
  
"That's Merlin's magic book – the one Gaius gave him. It's got lots of enchantments on it so that he's the only one who can touch it."  
  
"Oh." Arthur returned his gaze to the book. Now that he knew he couldn't touch it, he wanted to look at it all the more. It was probably the only memento of Gaius Merlin had. Arthur had once thought that immortality would be useful, but after seeing Merlin, who had suffered through it, he could only associate it with a curse. What must it be like to be only able to stand by and watch while the world fell away around you? Knowing you had power but were still powerless to stop it?  
  
A smaller, leather-bound book on a lower shelf stood out to him; he quickly identified it as being the one Merlin had been reading the previous day. When he tried to grab this one, he was pleased to find it didn't have the wards of the magic book.   
  
"Umm," Aithusa's voice got his attention again.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I… I'm not sure you should read that one."  
  
"Why?" Arthur looked down at the worn book in his hands. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"There's nothing wrong with it, as such," Aithusa shifted uncomfortably. "But I think it would be best to not look at it."  
  
"You're the one who said I would find something interesting. Now that I have, you're saying I can't look at it?"  
  
"Just… I just think it would be best for Merlin to tell you in person rather than have you find out through the pages of a book."  
  
"Find out what?" _Are there_ still _secrets between us?_  
  
"About the past," it was Kilgharrah who spoke this time. Sometime during their conversation, he had moved to stand behind the slightly shorter Aithusa.  
  
Now he _really_ wanted to read it. But, then, didn't he want to have Merlin personally answer his questions?   
  
"That book is a journal," Kilgharrah explained. "Merlin wrote it a long, long time ago."  
  
"I remember seeing him working on it in my previous life," Aithusa added, looking rather miserable. "He… he said it was so that he wouldn't forget. So that he would always be able to read it if he felt the need."  
  
Something clenched in Arthur's chest. He had seen Merlin reading this exact book not twenty four hours ago. What did that mean? Did it mean he was forgetting? Had he forgotten Arthur? He wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Without a second's hesitation, Arthur slipped the journal back into its place on the shelf. Merlin definitely had a lot of explaining to do when he got back.  



	3. Chapter 3

Merlin paused in his translating of a Norse document and took a sip of his tea. Throughout the centuries he had visited several civilisations, learning their languages along the way. What better use for his personal experiences than in work directly relating to them? Not to mention a small handful of the documents he worked with made mention to magic and sometimes specific spells.  
  
Peter had informed him that there was a new employee transferring from the American counterpart of the museum, but so far he hadn't been introduced. Come to think of it, there might have been one extra person in the lounge than there normally was. Not that he really wanted to make new acquaintances. The less people he got to know personally, the easier outliving them all became. It was also this mentality that had caused the hallucinations. But he would rather suffer through those than go through the grief and heartache that accompanied the death of a friend. At least the hallucinations allowed him to see his closest friends again – even if they _were_ only there to point out his failures.  
  
Speaking of which, he was fairly sure there was one standing in the corner. Merlin sighed, making a point of not acknowledging the figure. He had hoped that the visions would leave him alone now that Arthur was back, but this was pretty clear proof that he'd been wrong in his assumptions. At least whoever it was this time had yet to say anything. Maybe if he pretended they weren't there they'd just go away. Unlikely, but possible.  
  
Merlin allowed his mind to drift to Arthur. He briefly wondered how he was coping. Had he driven the dragons to insanity and gotten himself eaten? Kilgharrah had said he didn't want any part of Arthur in his mouth, but he was still a carnivorous reptile. It could still happen if he was provoked enough.  
  
 _Why didn't you save me?_  
  
Merlin sat rigid, mug halfway to his mouth. He would recognise that voice anywhere. And it was the last voice he wanted to hear. At least he was completely alone in this department (there weren't really many people capable of translating from multiple languages who had been hired by the museum) if he suddenly had to bolt or started talking to himself.  
  
 _You said you would protect me but you let me die._  
  
 _Ignore it,_ Merlin repeated in his head like a mantra. _It's not real. Ignore it. It's not her._  
  
 _You could have stopped him. You could have saved me. So why didn't you?_  
  
Merlin returned his attention to the document. He needed to keep his mind off the apparition. He needed to keep his mind off _her_.  
  
 _Why did you do nothing? I thought you loved me._  
  
"I'm sorry," the words were a barely audible whisper. He continued to avoid looking in the far corner of the room.  
  
 _Are you? Someone who was sorry wouldn't have allowed it to happen. For someone who is supposed to be the most powerful warlock to ever live, you seem to be rather lacking in ability. You couldn't even heal a single wound._  
  
"I'm sorry," he repeated, just as quietly. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I've never been good at healing spells."  
  
 _You're just making excuses!_ Her voice rose to a near shout. _If you really cared about me, you would have found a way to save me!_  
  
Merlin felt the first tear fall down his cheek. She was right. He should have been able to save her. He should have found a way to heal her. She shouldn't have had to die. It was all his fault! And she wasn't the only one…  
  
 _Merlin._  
  
As if on cue, a second, much deeper voice filled the room. Like the first, it was one he recognised. No amount of time could make him forget.  
  
 _I'm not the only one_ , the first voice said in a much softer but no less angry tone. _Your inability has cost the lives of many.  
  
I'm disappointed in you_ , the male voice chimed in. _I had expected that you would at least try to help me. But instead you just sat there, crying like I was already gone. I expected so much more._  
  
Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? How many times did he have to apologise before they would be satisfied? Merlin took a shuddering breath and gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
 _Sorry doesn't bring us back,_ the female voice snarled. _Sorry doesn't fix your mistakes!_  
  
"I know… I know."   
  
"Melvin?"  
  
 _But Arthur came back, didn't he? He has an important role to play. But what about us? Who gets to decide that we aren't worthy of living again; that we're not needed?_  
  
"Melvin?!"  
  
 _What are you going to do once destiny has been fulfilled? You are immortal. Arthur will live and die but your existence will continue on. I suppose it's a fitting punishment for all the wrongs you've committed._  
  
"Melvin!"  
  
A firm grip on his shoulders shocked Merlin into action. His head shot up to meet the concerned forest green eyes of a woman with long, dark hair. Morgana. _No. No. No. No. No._ He jumped back out of her reach, knocking over the chair in the process. Off balance, Merlin allowed himself to stumble back until he hit the far wall, where he slid to the ground and curled up into a tight ball, burying his head in his knees.  
  
Morgana hadn't haunted him in a long time, but she was one of the worst. He had always blamed himself for the way she had turned out; for what she had become. So many 'what if's had gone through his mind. What if he'd told her about his magic? Would she have remained loyal? Or would she have only hastened to try and kill him once she had allied with Morgause?  
  
This time she didn't seem to know what to say, continuing to gaze at him with an indecipherable expression. Was it fear? Did she fear him for what he had done to her? Because he was Emrys? Was she suddenly going to turn on him and attack? Scream and rage?   
  
"I… I'm sorry," his voice wavered. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to… I thought I was doing what was right…what was the best thing… I know you're angry… I know! I'm sorry!"

 

* * *

 

 

Morissa wasn't sure what to do when she walked into the literature department to find Melvin staring unfocusedly at his work with his hands holding the edge of the desk in a death-grip. He looked so pale and she could have sworn he was hyperventilating. The whole image just seemed so… wrong.  
  
"Melvin?" she called out, hoping that would be enough to distract him from whatever was affecting him. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.  
  
"Melvin?!" she tried again with the same results. Thinking of nothing better to do, she hurried over and placed both hands on his shoulders, calling his name once more.  
  
Then things seemed to happen too quickly for her to register. His head shot up, their eyes connecting. His face seemed to drain of any colour it had left as he became increasingly panicked, jumping back with such force that both he and the chair fell to the ground. Melvin drew into himself, his head tucked away so she could no longer see his face.  
  
"I…I'm sorry," he spoke so quietly that she barely caught his words. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to… I thought I was doing what was right… what was the best thing… I know you're angry… I know! I'm sorry!" By the end his voice had risen to a near shout.  
  
"Melvin," Morissa said calmly, kneeling in front of him. He still appeared unable to register her words, lost in whatever had scared him. She had never had to deal with someone who was panicking, but she knew that she had to get him to calm down. Only one thing came to mind. Morissa only hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a light embrace. "It's okay," she whispered soothingly. "It's alright, Melvin."  
  
Melvin stiffened. Had she finally gotten through to him? Slowly, she pulled away, holding him at arm's length. Melvin lifted his head, his gaze finding hers. His breathing had evened out and some colour had returned to his face, but he seemed no less afraid.  
  
"Are you alright?" she asked.  
  
"You… you're…" he stammered.  
  
"Oh," she quickly released him and stood, holding out a hand to help him up. "I'm Morissa. I just transferred in from America."  
  
Melvin's eyes widened. For a moment she didn't think he was going to move, but then he hesitantly reached up and allowed her to pull him to his feet. "Uh…sorry… about that. I'm Melvin."  
  
"Don’t worry about it. Are you okay? I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"Fine… just…I'm okay." He avoided looking at her, distracting himself by picking up the fallen chair.  
  
Morissa couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic towards him. He seemed so awkward and scared. Maybe it wasn't that he wasn't a people person, but rather he was afraid. He certainly didn't seem comfortable in her presence. The comments of her new co-workers seemed so inaccurate.  
  
"If you ever need to talk, I'm willing to listen." She wasn't sure what propelled her to say that but she found she didn't regret it. What if he didn't have anybody? She knew from experience that carrying burdens on your own wasn't healthy. If he needed help, she would be there.  
  
"Thank you," still he refused to look at her. "But I'm alright."  
  
"Well, if you're sure," Morissa turned to go.  
  
"Was there a specific reason you came here?"  
  
Morissa stopped and looked back at him. His sight was set firmly on the half-translated document on his desk but his body was angled in her direction.  
  
"Oh, I saw you come into the lounge earlier and wanted to introduce myself."  
  
He nodded, a troubled expression crossing his features. He didn't seem inclined to say anything more, so she smiled and returned the way she came, heading towards her own department.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur wasn't sure what time it was when Merlin came through the door. The sky was too overcast to get a glimpse of the sun and he didn't know how to read the round thing on the wall Kilgharrah had called a 'clock'. Whatever time it was, it had to be early evening by now.  
  
Arthur had been prepared to launch into a tirade of questions and force Merlin to tell him everything but stopped short when he caught sight of the suspicious looks on the two dragons' faces.  
  
"I'm back," Merlin grinned, throwing his bag on the table. "Didn't miss me too much, did you?"  
  
"Not at all," Arthur reassured him. "We've been having a lovely time, haven't we?" he looked back at the dragons who quickly hid their strange looks with smiles.  
  
"Good. Because you'll be spending the day together again tomorrow."  
  
"What?!"   
  
"Arthur," Merlin spoke slowly, as if addressing a child. "I have to work more than one day a week."  
  
A sudden, low growl from Kilgharrah and a flinch from Aithusa had him looking at the dragons once again. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard such a sinister sound come from the smaller version of the Great Dragon. And it was so unexpected. What did he have to be angry about?  
  
Merlin glared at the dragons and they quickly went back to being calm and docile. _What was that about?_  
  
"Well," Merlin turned and walked over to the kitchen. "I guess I should make dinner. You two can go out for a while if you like. I know you don't like being cooped up all day."  
  
The dragons seemed hesitant to leave for a reason Arthur couldn't fathom. In the past few days he'd known them, they'd jumped at every chance of going outside. And they had seemed restless being confined to the house all day like he had. So why did they not want to go now? Then the first part of Merlin's comment hit him and he seized the chance to lighten the mood.  
  
"Wait. _You're_ cooking?"  
  
"Unless you'd like to do it?"  
  
"As long as it's not rat stew…"  
  
"I'll have you know I've become a pretty good cook over the last… however many years."  
  
That had Arthur biting his tongue. Merlin didn't seem overly affected about bringing up the many long years he'd endured, but it can't have been pleasant. Of course he would have had to learn to cook. How else would he survive on his own? Not that he hadn't been a good cook to begin with (another thing that would go unsaid).  
  
Arthur caught sight of the long, meaningful looks Kilgharrah and Aithusa gave Merlin as they walked out the front door. He suddenly felt very out of the loop.  
  
"So what did you get up to?" Merlin asked, pulling a rather large knife out of a drawer.  
  
"Not much. There really isn't a lot to do here, you know. No wonder you went and got yourself a job."  
  
"If it were possible, I'd much rather just stay here." A strange stiffness seemed to attack Merlin's posture.  
  
"I'm sure even you would get bored after a while," Arthur tried to keep the conversation going.  
  
"Not really. I could always read, or practice my magic, or talk with Kilgharrah and Aithusa, or go for a walk around the lake…" his voice trailed off at this point.  
  
Now Arthur was certain there was something wrong. "Merlin," he waited until Merlin glanced over his shoulder to show he was listening before continuing. "Is everything alright?"  
  
Merlin stopped mid-chop and heaved a heavy sigh. "Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"I don't know… you just seem a bit tense, is all."  
  
"I'm fine," he continued cutting up the carrot he'd been working on.  
  
"I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but if you want to talk–" Arthur was cut off as a glass on the table shattered of its own accord. He could almost see Merlin's eyes fading from that bright gold back to their normal crystal blue.  
  
Merlin froze in place, as if he'd only just realised what had happened. He quickly put the knife down and moved across the room, barely throwing a glance in Arthur's direction. He paused in the doorway, hand on the knob.  
  
"I…ah…sorry," he tried to find the words. "I'm just gonna go for a walk." He slipped out the doorway.  
  
Arthur remained in his seat, rooted by shock. What had just happened? Did he make Merlin angry? There was definitely something going on that he wasn't aware of. And he was going to find out exactly what it was if it was the last thing he ever did.


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin growled in frustration at himself as he stalked through the forest of trees surrounding his house, not paying attention to where he was going. He had let his trepidations and anxieties get the better of him and his magic had responded. That one line… the one time Arthur had tried to be comforting and Merlin had blown it up in his face. Quite literally. He hadn't meant to have such a reaction, but Arthur's offer to listen was so similar to Morg– Morissa's earlier that it had managed to resurface all the fear, pain and embarrassment he had suffered through earlier that afternoon.   
  
Oh, God. Arthur.  
  
Merlin stopped dead in his tracks. He had left Arthur alone. Probably confused and hurt at Merlin's actions. What would he say to him when he got back? How would Arthur react? Would he just pretend it never happened? No, he had a right to know; it concerned his near future, after all. But he had a more immediate problem to deal with. Searching with his mind, Merlin located the two dragons, who were hunting not far away.  
  
 _Kilgharrah, Aithusa,_ he called out to them.  
  
 _What is it, Merlin?_ Kilgharrah responded, some of his anger from earlier still evident. Although it wasn’t directed at him, the harshness of his tone made Merlin uncomfortable.  
  
 _Are you okay?_ Aithusa asked. _You feel shaken. More so than earlier._  
  
 _I'm as well as can be expected. I kind of lost control of my magic in front of Arthur and walked off… he's alone back at the house but I'm not ready to return yet.  
  
What happened?_ Kilgharrah spoke more calmly this time.  
  
 _He said something that reminded me of what happened at work… I panicked and my magic reacted to it.  
  
I understand_ , Aithusa said soothingly. _I'll head back and keep an eye on Arthur._  
  
Thank you, Merlin broke the connection and continued on at a much slower pace.   
  
What did this apparent reincarnation of Morgana mean? It seemed pretty clear that she didn't recognise him… maybe she wouldn't be an enemy this time? He certainly hoped that was the case. But if Morgana was back, what did that mean for the others? Would he get to see them again? And what about his other enemies? Like Morgause and Cenred. Or Uther? Merlin didn't know, but one thing he did know was that things were going to escalate from then on. The time of Albion's greatest need was most definitely upon them.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur was still sitting gaping in shock when the door was pushed open. He instantly clamped shut his loose jaw and tried to look relaxed. He hated himself for slumping in relief when Aithusa walked through the threshold instead of Merlin.  
  
"Are you okay?" the white dragon asked, using her tail to shut the door behind her.  
  
"Fine," Arthur replied instantaneously. "Just wasn't expecting it."  
  
Aithusa looked at the shards of glass littering the table and the floor. "He didn't mean it."  
  
"I know." Of course he knew. Merlin would never deliberately attack him… would he? "What I don't know is why it happened. He's seemed rather… off since he got back."  
  
"There was… an incident at his work today and it's made him uneasy. You said something that brought it back to the forefront of his mind and his magic responded to his emotions."  
  
"Something happened at work?" Arthur gathered the strength to get up and looked around for a broom to sweep up the mess.  
  
"It's not my place to tell you."  
  
"Is that why you and Kilgharrah were acting weird?"  
  
Aithusa absently began pushing the shards into a pile with her tail. "Yes. He told us what happened telepathically." Upon seeing the half confused and half horrified expression on Arthur's face, she elaborated. "It's a Dragonlord ability. Don't worry, he can't read your mind."  
  
"Wait. Merlin's a Dragonlord?" _Another thing he neglected to tell me._  
  
Aithusa looked at him incredulously. "Surely Kilgharrah and me being here and Kilgharrah's presence at your death would be more than enough evidence to suggest this?"  
  
Arthur felt kind of stupid for not picking up on that. But, to be fair, he had been dying at the time. "Speaking of Merlin, he took off rather suddenly. Is he alright?"  
  
"He'll be fine. Just give him some time."

 

* * *

 

 

"Merlin."  
  
Merlin looked up to see Kilgharrah landing elegantly in front of him.  
  
"Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Better than I was," Merlin shrugged. "It's just that… Morgana! She was right there! I thought she was a hallucination at first, but no… she was real…" He stopped in his rambling and sat down heavily on the grass beside the small golden dragon. "Kilgharrah… what do I do?"  
  
"I doubt I could tell you anything more than what you already know," Kilgharrah said sympathetically. "If Morgana is back, then it is probable that she is not the only one."  
  
"What if she turns on us again? I'm not sure if I could bring myself to kill her again… I don't want to fight her. She was good once."  
  
"And maybe she can be, again. But Merlin, you must be careful. If she does turn out to be an enemy, you must watch your back. I don't want to have to come to your rescue because you put too much trust in her."  
  
"I know," Merlin sighed. "I know."

 

***

 

When Merlin and Kilgharrah returned to the house, both were feeling significantly calmer than they had an hour or so before. But Merlin found a knot of dread hanging deep in the pit of his stomach as he opened the door (by hand) and walked in. The sight that greeted him was not one he would have come to expect.  
  
Arthur and Aithusa were seated at the table, which had been set for two. A bowl of rather suspicious looking stew sat before each chair and the remains of the shattered glass were nowhere in sight.  
  
"It's about time you got back," Arthur frowned at him but there was a hint of a smile on his face. "I went to all the trouble to make dinner and you're not even around to appreciate it."  
  
Merlin stood looking dumbfounded. "You. _You_ made dinner? For that matter, _you cleaned up?_ "  
  
"Why do you sound so surprised?" Arthur scoffed. "Now sit down and eat."  
  
"I'm not sure I want to," Merlin's face split into a large grin. "It'll probably kill me."  
  
" _Mer_ lin, you've lived through 1500 years; I doubt my cooking is going to be what kills you."  
  
A pang of loneliness struck Merlin with those words but he made an effort not to let it show on in his expression. "I'm not sure I'd like to risk that."  
  
"Merlin."  
  
"Shut up?"  
  
"Good, you haven't forgotten. Now get over here, sit down, and eat your dinner. It's highly unlikely that you'll ever get to taste my wonderful cooking skills again in the near future. You should feel privileged; not everyone gets to have the King of Camelot cook for them."  
  
"That's probably for the best," Merlin muttered under his breath but stepped forward all the same.  
  
"I heard that."  
  
"Prat."  
  
Aithusa happily surrendered her seat to Merlin and lay down by his feet. Hesitantly, Merlin lifted a spoonful of the stew and took a bite. It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting, mildly tolerable, in fact, but he wasn't about to tell Arthur that.

  

* * *

 

 

Morissa tossed and turned in her sleep. Like a few other rare occasions in the past, she was dreaming of an era long since passed. As always in these dreams, she was a Lady, ward to the King. She dreamt of her maidservant and best friend, Guinevere, the old physician, Gaius, who would give her tonics to help her sleep, the prince, Arthur, and his arrogance. She knew there were others; people she vaguely remembered from the dreams of her childhood. But now they seemed to escape her.  
  
This dream seemed to be early in the timeline she'd experienced; she was still loved and respected by the people, rather than the bitter, hate-filled role she had played in earlier dreams. In those dreams she had sought to claim the kingdom as her own. Why? She had yet to see what had caused her to turn against what had once been her 'home'.  
  
Was it just a coincidence that the prince was named Arthur? That her maid was Guinevere? That she, herself, played the role of Morgana? If she remembered correctly, they were all characters from the Arthurian legends, but these people seemed to live lives so different from what the legends portrayed. Surely, then, it was just some conjure of her tired mind after spending a long day surrounded by history? But, then, why were the dreams recurring? It had been many years since the last one, but she knew they were the same people, the same setting – just a different event unfolding before her eyes with each experience.   
  
She would have to look into it further. It was too suspicious to be a coincidence.  
  
That was why, the next morning when she arrived at work, she made a point of setting aside some time to head down to the literature department and see if they had any documents on the Arthurian legends. It would also give her an excuse to see Melvin and check on how he was doing. Hopefully she wouldn't walk in on another panic-attack. The poor thing.  
  
Morissa knocked lightly on the door to Melvin's office, waiting patiently for the small call of 'enter' before opening the door and stepping inside.  
  
Much like the last time she saw him, Melvin was seated at his desk. But this time, he looked calm and focused on his work. He didn't acknowledge her for a moment, presumably finishing off what he was doing so as not to lose track. In less than a minute, he put down his pen and looked up. Their eyes locked and all sense of ease on his part dissipated as his body tensed.  
  
"Can I help you?" His words were forced and there was no hint of welcoming on his features.  
  
 _Maybe he's embarrassed about what happened yesterday…_ "I was wondering if the museum had any documents on the Arthurian legends?"  
  
If it was possible, he tensed further. "…Ah… were you after anything specific?"  
  
"Not really," Morissa shrugged one shoulder. "Anything's fine."  
  
"May I ask why the sudden interest?" Melvin looked at her calculatingly, as if she was a puzzle he was trying to figure out.  
  
"I guess I'm just interested," Morissa said honestly.  
  
Melvin was silent for a moment before rising to his feet. "There are a few; I'll go get them for you."  
  
Morissa remained where she was, watching as he retreated into another room. He took much less time than anticipated, as if he knew exactly where to find them. Perhaps he did. She had been told he was remarkably good at his job.  
  
"I can't allow you to take them out of the department without written consent from the higher ups," he said as he gently handed her a small stack of bound pieces of parchment and a dusty book with a worn cover. "But you can look at them here."  
  
"Thank you," she smiled, glancing down at the top sheet. It appeared to be written in Old English and, to her shock, she found she had no difficulty reading it. Glancing around the room, she noticed a small armchair in the corner and took a seat. She could practically feel Melvin's gaze boring into her but she made a point of not meeting his eyes. He still seemed uncomfortable around her and she didn't want to provoke matters.  
  
And so she spent the majority of her break sitting in Melvin's office, reading the Arthurian documents. As she had expected, they were just retellings from various historical figures and none of the accounts seemed to match up with what she had witnessed in her dreams. She wasn't sure if she felt disappointed or not, but she found she still had more questions than she did answers.  
  
When the end of her break drew near, Morissa rose from her spot and returned the documents to Melvin, with another thank you and a smile he didn't return.  
  
"Did you find what you were looking for?" He surprised her with his question.  
  
"I'm not really sure what I was looking for, to tell the truth. Do you know much about the legends?" she replied.  
  
"...A bit."  
  
"Tell me, Melvin, why do you think Morgana turned against them?" She had spoken aloud before she even realised what she was asking. Melvin would have no idea what she was talking about, presumably thinking about the recorded incident when Morgan Le Fay had tried to kill Arthur.  
  
Melvin sat rigid, eyes wide as he stared at her. For a moment she wondered if he was ever going to answer. But when he spoke, his voice was low and subdued.  
  
"I… I think she allowed her anger and fear take over… she didn't have the support she needed to reassure her that she was alright, that there was nothing wrong with her. So, she took help where she could get it… it just happened to be from a person who was against Uther and Arthur… and Camelot… Maybe if things had've been different, if she'd received that support she so desperately needed, she wouldn't have drowned in her own anger and hatred. She could have been a great force for good."  
  
She was rendered speechless by his reply. She knew he wouldn't realise it, but it seemed to fit perfectly with her dreams and not so well with the actual legends. Morgan Le Fay hadn't tried to kill Arthur until after Uther's death. Morissa noted the slight gleam of Melvin's eyes. It was clear this was something he felt strongly about, but from his expression she knew there must be more to it she wasn't seeing.  
  
Morissa looked down at her watch. "I… I have to go," she announced. "Thank you for your help."  
  
Melvin didn't look up from his work as she left.


	5. Chapter 5

Having been neglected for the past few days, Arthur made Merlin promise to let him go out somewhere once Merlin returned from work. Of course, Merlin had complained about being tired and 'couldn't he wait until the weekend?' and other excuses, but Arthur would not relent. There was only so long you could stay inside with only two talking dragons for company until you lost your mind. He was beginning to see why Merlin had reacted the way he did to Arthur's sudden appearance in his house.  
  
So there they were, walking into town with the two dragons disguised as dogs (they refused to be left behind). Seeing as most places closed after 5pm, Merlin had opted to going out to eat; that way they could sit outside with Kilgharrah and Aithusa.  
  
Choosing a nice looking place, they took the table furthest away from the others (in case one of the dog-dragons decided to talk) and looked over the menu placed on the table.  
  
"What do you do you want?" Merlin asked as he scanned over the menu.  
  
Arthur frowned, squinting his eyes slightly as if it would help him to understand the foreign language printed on the page. With a huff, he placed the menu down on the table top. "I can't read it."  
  
"Hmm?" Merlin looked up from his own menu and stared at him.  
  
"The menu. I can't read it," Arthur repeated.  
  
Merlin frowned in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. "That's not surprising. I'll have to teach you new English… that might take a while… maybe I can find a spell."  
  
Arthur wasn't sure if he liked the idea of having a spell cast on him. He had become much more comfortable around magic thanks to Merlin, but being enchanted was a whole other story.  
  
"I didn't even realise I was speaking in Old English with you," Merlin continued, almost as if he was talking to himself.   
  
" _Can I take your order?_ " a young waiter stood before them with a small notebook and a pen in hand, looking at them expectantly.  
  
" _I'll have the carbonara_ ," Merlin smiled then turned back to Arthur. "Do you know what you want or should I choose for you?"  
  
"Ah… you choose," Arthur replied uncertainly.  
  
Merlin turned back to the waiter. " _He'll have the steak. Are you willing to do a simple meat dish for these two?"_ He gestured to Kilgharrah and Aithusa. " _Even if you just put a couple of steaks on another plate and I'll hand-feed them if necessary."  
  
"I'll see what I can do,_ " the waiter replied. " _Anything for drinks?"  
  
"Two cokes, please." _ Merlin glanced sidelong at Arthur. " _…better make one of them diet."_  
  
For some reason, Arthur felt as though he'd just been insulted. He definitely needed to learn this new language if people were insulting him without him knowing. Especially if it was Merlin.  
  
The waiter nodded, jotted a few things down and walked back into the main section of the restaurant.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwen was walking home from her job at the café when she saw them. It was the same two men and the dogs from the café a few days ago, seated at a table outside a casual restaurant across the street. What was it about them that made her feel nostalgic? Why did she have the urge to go up to them and talk to them? Granted, they were good looking, especially the blonde, but she'd never felt bold like that before.  
  
Even if she did go over, what would she say? 'Hi, I saw you at a café the other day and I think you look really familiar'. No. Absolutely not. They'd think she was mental. It certainly didn't help that she'd been having dreams about them. Even she was starting to think she was mental. Seriously, she saw them _one time_ and she was having dreams about them! The dark haired one – Merlin, she'd called him – was her best friend and the blonde (Arthur, apparently) had shifting roles. In the beginning she hadn't thought much of him but then, somehow, she ended up being married to him. Yep. She was definitely going insane.  
  
As she was staring, her eyes locked with the blue eyes of the white dog. They stared at each other for a moment before the dog suddenly started barking. Gwen flinched at the sudden vocal acknowledgement. Was it because she was staring? She had heard somewhere that looking into a dog's eyes was like challenging it.  
  
When the two men turned to look at the dog, Gwen quickly ducked her head and hurried down the road, the dog continuing to bark at her. It was a good thing dogs couldn't talk, or she'd be so embarrassed she'd want to curl up and die.

 

* * *

 

 

Aithusa's sudden outburst had both Merlin, Arthur, Kilgharrah and some other restaurant patrons turning to look at her.  
  
"Aithusa," Merlin reprimanded but it did nothing to calm her. "What's wrong? What is it?"  
  
 _Gwen_ , Aithusa replied.  
  
"What?!" Merlin realised he was drawing attention to himself and switched to telepathy. _What? Did you see Gwen? And stop barking!  
  
_ Aithusa begrudgingly conceded. Merlin was beginning to wonder if she did it for the pure fun of it. _Yes. She was watching us from across the street._  
  
Merlin looked up, following Aithusa's line of sight. There was no sign of the beautiful queen, however. He briefly wondered if he would recognise her even if he did see her. It had been so long since he'd seen her face that he could no longer gain a clear picture of her in his mind. Gwen was one of the few friends that had rarely haunted him; there wasn't really a reason for her to. Occasionally she would rant about letting her husband die, but Merlin got enough about that from everyone else (especially Arthur) to cover her part.  
  
 _Are you sure? You didn't just see someone similar?  
  
Merlin, a dragon's memory is much greater than a human's. I remember her appearance clearly from the times she visited us._  
  
"What is it?" Arthur's voice drew his attention.  
  
"She says she saw Gwen," Merlin relayed.  
  
"Guinevere? I thought she was… How is that possible?"  
  
Merlin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He had yet to tell Arthur about the whole Morgana incident; he didn't want to worry him unnecessarily.   
  
"Merlin? What are you not telling me?" Arthur said sternly.  
  
"Uh… she may or may not be the first person to have randomly shown up since you came back?" He spoke rather quickly, hoping Arthur wouldn't catch on to what he was saying.  
  
"What?!" No such luck. "Who else have you seen? Why didn't you tell me?!"  
  
"I didn't want to worry you. You have enough on your plate trying to adapt, I didn't want you to get anxious about the reason you're back."  
  
"Merlin. Who. Did. You. See?"  
  
"…Morgana?"  
  
Arthur's expression was a mixture of fear, hope, anger and betrayal. Merlin certainly hoped it wasn't aimed at him.   
  
"When?" Arthur's voice was deathly calm, only serving to unsettle Merlin more.  
  
"On Monday…"  
  
"While you were at work? Is that why you were acting so strangely when you got back?"  
  
"Ah…Yeah. She, um, she transferred from the American sister museum and she may have… walked in on me when I was… uh… not feeling well?"  
  
Arthur knew that last bit was a lie, or at least not the full truth. Merlin knew that Arthur knew it wasn't the full truth. But, thankfully, he didn't push for details. Merlin didn't really want to tell him that he had been getting harassed by his dead girlfriend and father. Chances were, he didn't even know about them. Merlin kind of wanted it to stay that way. For as long as possible, at least.  
  
Before Arthur had the chance to comment, the waiter returned with their orders.  
  
" _I was able to get this for your dogs,"_ the waiter placed a plate containing two unseasoned steaks in the centre of the table. " _They've been cooked but with nothing added seasoning wise."_  
  
"Thank you," Merlin smiled as Aithusa licked her lips at the sight of what was undeniably her dinner.  
  
The waiter placed their food in front of them, nodded his head slightly and left to serve another table.  
  
"Alright, you two," Merlin grabbed a fork and stabbed it into one of the steaks. "Enjoy this and no fighting." Aithusa happily tore her steak off the fork. Kilgharrah was much more civilised.

 

* * *

 

 

Moriah frowned and heaved a sigh of annoyance. Through the dreams that had plagued the last few years of her life, she had come to understand and accept her past life; the time when she was Morgause. She had spent much time thinking and plotting. If she was alive once again, was Uther? Arthur? That irritating servant, Merlin? Would she finally get her revenge? And what of Morgana? Morgause had died in one last attempt at ridding Camelot's throne of the Pendragons' once and for all, but she did not know the outcome. Had they succeeded? If the (horribly inaccurate) Arthurian legends were anything to go by, no.   
  
Putting those thoughts aside for now, Moriah focused on tracking down her half-sister, assuming she existed in this life, of course. Once they were reunited, they could ascertain whether or not they needed to form a plan or revenge, and on whom.   
  
With her forgotten memories came her magic. Although she had a previous lifetime to gain her power, in this life she was clumsy and slow. She was only just starting to get the hang of it. But her progress when she knew what she was doing was astounding. She was currently trying a scrying spell, but she didn't know anything about this life's Morgana, or if she even existed. Would she look the same? What was her name? After all, Moriah didn't share her name with her ancient counterpart. Other than that, though, they were practically the same.  
  
Leaning over the shallow bowl of water, Moriah allowed the magic to course through her as she spoke, " _Gerihtlæc me."  
_  
Much like the last few times she'd tried it, nothing happened. No image of Morgana appeared in the water. Not even a ripple.  
  
"Having trouble?"  
  
The sudden, familiar voice made Moriah start, spinning around to face the intruder. Standing in the doorway was a beautiful young woman with light brown hair.  
  
"Nimueh…" Moriah breathed.  
  
"Yes. You are searching for Morgana, yes?"  
  
"Is she here? In this time, I mean."  
  
"She is. Much like many others. I can help you find her… if you'll repay the favour."  
  
"What is it you ask of me?" Moriah was willing to do just about anything if it meant reuniting with her sister.  
  
"I want the same thing you do. Revenge against those who stood against me."  
  
"Uther?"  
  
"Uther is no more. There is no reason for him to be in this time. However, his son, Arthur has risen again. It may not have been his destiny to die at my hand then, but there is nothing to stop me this time. And where we find Arthur, we find Merlin. I still have to repay him for my death."  
  
" _Merlin_ killed you?" Moriah asked incredulously. He may have been a nuisance, but he was still just a servant. To kill a High Priestess such as Nimueh was no small feat. The Arthurian Legends portrayed him as a powerful sorcerer, but surely that was all they were; legends.  
  
"Do not be fooled by appearances, Morgause," Nimueh frowned. "Merlin is magic. He is the one they call Emrys."  
  
Moriah gaped. Emrys?! It couldn't be true. That servant had magic? _Was_ magic? "Then we must repay the favour."  
  
Nimueh grinned darkly. Things were beginning to set into motion.


	6. Chapter 6

Morissa woke with a strangled gasp. She still felt like her throat was closing in and every breath was a struggle. She knew. After all the years of dreaming, witnessing the horrible, merciless things she'd done, she finally knew what had set her – Morgana – down the path of hatred and revenge. And she knew that she was Morgana, in some, unimaginable way. The thoughts that _she_ had done all those things made her stomach heave.   
  
Morissa tumbled out of bed and dashed into her bathroom, expelling the contents of her stomach into the toilet.   
  
Yes, she'd been betrayed by those she trusted. Yes, she had been scared and without anyone to help her (until Morgause found her). But was that an excuse to do the horrible things she'd done? Morissa didn't think so. Melvin's words from the other day replayed in her head. __  
  
I think she allowed her anger and fear to take over. She didn't have the support she needed to reassure her that she was alright, that there was nothing wrong with her. So, she took the help where she could get it; it just happened to be from a person who was against Uther and Arthur…and Camelot. Maybe if things had've been different, if she'd received that support she so desperately needed, she wouldn't have drowned in her own anger and hatred. She could have been a great force for good.  
  
Melvin. It couldn't be a coincidence that he looked identical to Merlin. Did he have dreams like she did? Did he remember everything that happened? If that were the case, it would certainly explain his reaction to her and the emotional intensity in his response to her question. If he really was Merlin, he'd better prepare himself for the lecture of a lifetime. And then she was going to ask for forgiveness. She understood why he had done what he had, betrayal aside. Maybe, in this life, they wouldn't have to be enemies. Maybe this was a second chance. A chance for redemption.

 

 

Since finding out about Merlin hiding his encounter with Morgana from him, Arthur had demanded a full explanation about everything. Merlin had tried to make excuses – 'it's a long story', 'does it have to be now?', 'I need my journal' – but had conceded that he would spill the beans once they got home. Apparently he hadn't been joking about needing the journal; a prospect that greatly saddened Arthur.   
  
Merlin had been true to his word. Although, Arthur noticed when Merlin tried to skip over things, and forced him to talk. Now, lying awake in Merlin's bed (Merlin had been taking the couch since Arthur returned) in the middle of the night, Arthur was coming to regret having wanted the truth. Ignorance truly was bliss.  
  
He couldn't even begin to fathom what he had done to earn such loyalty. He'd killed Merlin's girlfriend, for God's sake, and had been completely ignorant to the real reason that Merlin was acting off in the time afterwards. And what he'd told Merlin when Balinor had died: 'No man is worth your tears'. He had no idea how wrong he was. How would he ever be able to make it up to the ancient man sleeping in the next room?  
  
Arthur didn't blame Merlin for what happened to Morgana; chances were she would've changed anyway, and it would've just caused more problems. But, from the way Merlin refused to make eye contact and how his tone had lowered and how he hadn't needed to check the journal at all, it was quite clear that Merlin felt like it was his fault. That would have to change.  
  
"…rlin…relax…kay…"  
  
Whispers from the next room halted Arthur's thoughts. Judging from what he could hear, it was Aithusa talking.  
  
"Merlin! … just… dream… not real…"  
  
Arthur frowned. What was going on out there? Not feeling tired anyway, he pushed himself up and out of bed and headed into the next room.   
  
It was dark, but light from a full moon coming in through the window illuminated the room enough to gain a reasonably clear image. Both dragons were awake, Kilgharrah on the backrest and Aithusa lying half wedged between Merlin and the back of the couch and half on top of him. They were both whispering to Merlin, who was apparently still asleep. At Arthur's shuffling footsteps, they both turned to him.  
  
"Sorry, did I wake you?" Aithusa asked quietly.  
  
"No, I was already awake," Arthur looked over at Merlin who was tossing and his brow furrowed like he was in pain. "Is he alright?"  
  
"Just a nightmare," Kilgharrah replied. "It's not uncommon."  
  
"Merlin," Arthur put a hand on one of Merlin's shoulders and shook it gently. "It's just a dream. Wake up."  
  
Merlin shifted uncomfortably under Arthur's grip but made no other signs that he had acknowledged him. Arthur shook him a bit harder but Merlin still refused to wake.  
  
"He's not normally this hard to wake up," Aithusa squeaked anxiously.   
  
"Merlin," Arthur said in his best 'I-am-your-king-and-you-will-obey-me' voice. "If you don't wake up right now, I'll have you put in the stocks for a week." Arthur was fairly certain there weren't any stocks anymore (a shame, really) but he was sure he could find something similar.  
  
Merlin's eyes shot open, flaring a brilliant gold. Arthur instinctively took a large step back and watched Merlin warily. He seemed unfocused, looking but not seeing.  
  
"Merlin?" Kilgharrah probed for a response.  
  
" _Beinnan swearce gesceaphwíl séo neaht gicel..._ "  
  
"What's he saying?" Arthur tried to keep his voice calm.  
  
"…It is a prophecy," Kilgharrah made the dragon equivalent of a frown.  
  
" _Se hláfordswica yfelwille geswin áwendednesse myrgnesse… Pá hrérenesse drýcræft gewédu… Séo emrys ágéniernep ende… Ac hwonne séo friþcandel be se draca… Se ætlimpeþ Calic béon áfunden…_ " Merlin trailed off, his eyes shutting and his body growing still.  
  
Slightly panicked, Arthur hurried forwards.  
  
"Relax," Kilgharrah soothed. "He is merely sleeping."  
  
"You said that was a prophecy," Arthur looked up at the golden dragon. "What did he say?"  
  
"In the darkest hour of the night of ice," Aithusa recited quietly, "The Traitor's song of malevolence changes tune. The Tempest of Witchcraft rages, the immortal meets his end. But when the sun is eclipsed by the dragon, the lost Chalice will be found."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"I don't know."

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin decided that sleeping on the couch wasn't doing him any good. Not only had he not been sleeping well, but now he had a sore back and had, according to his housemates, been spewing out prophecies in his sleep. He knew from experience that prophecies led to nothing but trouble. And this one, which specifically mentioned 'The Tempest of Witchcraft rages, the immortal meets his end', certainly wasn't going to be any different. And he _really_ didn't like the sound of the last bit.   
  
Not to mention his lack of sleep had been causing an increase in the hallucinations. He used to only get them maybe once a week or a fortnight. This was the second time this week that he'd been reminded of his mental state and everything he regretted. Thankfully he'd yet to have a breakdown in front of Arthur (not including their first encounter; it wasn't a hallucination). Lord knows how the man would react.   
  
So now here he was, walking to the staff common room to get a coffee refill, being tailed by apparition-Gwaine who continued to blame him for his death at Morgana's hand. Not a great start to the day.  
  
Doing his best to ignore not-Gwaine, Merlin slipped in through the door and headed over to the kitchenette, not bothering to acknowledge anyone in the room. He never did; why start now? Unfortunately, life seemed to have it in for him today, because the people in the room were, for once, acknowledging him.  
  
"Hey, Melvin," Morissa greeted.   
  
Merlin could practically feel the looks she was getting. It was like high school; Merlin was the social outcast and you had to be crazy to talk to him.   
  
Merlin looked over his shoulder and gave her a quick smile.  
  
 _Morgana_ , not-Gwaine hissed. _Why are you just standing there?! Morgana is_ right there _and you'd rather make coffee. I thought you were my friend. I thought you would do something to avenge me. Or at least attempt to redeem yourself for everything you've done and been the cause of!_  
  
Merlin made a great effort not to reply to that. If he suddenly started talking to himself it would only lower his status from outcast to downright pariah. Not that he particularly cared. But, then, he didn't like revealing his fragile mental state. Especially to strangers (well, almost-strangers).   
  
"I was wondering if I could talk to you about the Arthurian legends later. I'd love to get your opinion," Morissa continued in her too-cheery tone for this time of the morning.  
  
 _Man, she's persistent. Why is she so interested, anyway? Unless…_ It couldn't be. Surely she didn't know the truth? Who she really was? Would she suddenly try to get revenge on him and try to kill him? Granted, being immortal meant whatever she tried would be destined to fail, but he still didn't really like the idea of bleeding uselessly or the sickness that came with being poisoned or whatever else she had in mind.  
  
He was getting ahead of himself. All she asked was to talk about the legends. Surely if she meant him any harm she would have done it when they were alone on one of the two occasions she had come to his department.   
  
_Yes. Say yes. You'll be alone and then you can take the opportunity to get rid of her! Do it for me! Do it for Arthur! Or Elyan, or Lancelot! I don't care; take your pick. Just get rid of her!!_  
  
Had Gwaine always been that murderous? "Ah… sure…" _but not for the reason you'd like, not-Gwaine_.  
  
Now he had a distinct feeling that all eyes had turned to him.   
  
"Great! I have another break at one o'clock. Is that alright with you?"  
  
Merlin nodded as he stirred his coffee.   
  
"Great. I'll see you then."  
  
Merlin nodded again and retreated out of the room. Great. Simply fantastic. Now he was going to be forced to sit with Morgana and discuss Arthur. Wonderful. His day just got a whole lot worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Where had her confidence gone in the period between her morning tea break and one o'clock? Morissa had felt so sure of what she was going to do. Now she had no idea, she was nervous, and she was standing at Melvin's office door. She had suggested it, so she couldn't back out now. Although, judging from his body language, he would be more than happy for her to cancel.   
  
But then she would never find out the truth. Was Melvin who she thought he was? Would she be given a chance to redeem her actions as Morgana? Maybe Melvin knew others who were from the past. Maybe she could apologise to them, too.  
  
Morissa held up her hand to knock but paused when she heard talking coming from the other side of the door.  
  
"You've been bothering me all day, why don't you just leave?"  
  
A pause.  
  
"I swear, you are the most annoying. I guess nothing's changed, then. But you normally leave in less than an hour. Why are you still here?"  
  
Was he on the phone to someone? Gathering her courage, she knocked lightly on the door three times. The talking instantly fell away.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Morissa took a deep breath and turned the handle, pushing the door open. Melvin was seated at his desk, completely alone in the room. There was no sign of a phone and he was watching her intensely in that same, guarded posture that she had never not seen him in.  
  
"Hello. Am I late?" She tried for casual conversation.  
  
Melvin looked up at the clock on the wall. "No."  
  
"Good," she walked in, shutting the door behind her, and took a seat in the small arm chair, dragging it forward so it was closer to the desk. "Shall we get started?" She said the last part to both Melvin and herself. At Melvin's affirmative nod, she continued. "So… the Arthurian legends… I'm not sure I find them terribly accurate."  
  
Melvin narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I guess there's not much evidence to support them and, judging by other records of the time period, it can be assumed that the documentation wasn't contemporary to King Arthur." Having pre-planned what she was going to say was definitely coming in handy. "What about you? Do you think that Arthur was real, or just a story?"  
  
Melvin looked down at his desk, chewing his lip slightly. "I think that there might be some truth behind the legends, but many of them are probably just myths created by later authors designed to be simply a story, and we just haven't been able to derive fact from fiction accurately in the modern world."  
  
"Then what about the whole 'Once and Future King', thing? Do you think Arthur will rise again in 'Albion's time of greatest need'?"  
  
Melvin visibly flinched. Was he hiding something? Did he know something she didn't? Or was she merely over thinking things?  
  
"It's possible."  
  
"This is resurrection we're talking about. You believe it's possible to bring back the dead?"  
  
"No. Bringing back the dead isn't possible. However, I believe it is possible to reincarnate."  
  
Was that a huge clue? Should she just come out and say it? What if she was over thinking it? Just blurting out stuff about an undocumented past would only make him more uncomfortable around her. _Damn it, Morissa, stop thinking so hard! Maybe this calls for a more direct approach..._  
  
"What about Merlin, the old wizard? What do you think about him?"  
  
Melvin gave a short, humourless laugh. "He's an idiot."  
  
Morissa frowned. Did he really think that? Was he talking about himself or the old man portrayed in the legends… although the real Merlin had taken on the form of an old man on more than one occasion. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Because it's true."  
  
"I disagree."  
  
Melvin snapped his gaze up to meet hers.  
  
"I think he did what he thought was right at the time. Regardless of the way things played out, he was always trying to do what was right and that's all that matters. Those who disagree be damned."  
  
Morissa studied Melvin's face but his expression remained unreadable. He suddenly flinched and threw a quick glance over his shoulder with his eyes.  
  
"You seem to have strong opinions," Melvin said after a moment's silence. "So why did you want to discuss it?"  
  
"I wanted to hear your thoughts. It's no good having an opinion based on personal biased beliefs without a contrast or comparison." _How am I going to ask him without actually asking? His answers are so vague and could be applied to both the legends and the memories._ "Does the name Emrys mean anything to you?"  
  
Melvin flinched again. "...It means immortal. Why do you ask?"  
  
"I…ah, heard it somewhere and was interested in how it applied to the Arthurian legends."  
  
Melvin looked sceptical. Did he know she was lying?   
  
"According to a particular prophecy," Melvin said carefully, "Emrys was supposed to help guide the Once and Future King in uniting the lands of Albion."  
  
Morissa nodded. He was just telling her things she already knew. _There must be some way to just get a straight answer!_ "How do you know so much?"  
  
"I've had a lot of time to study."  
  
Morissa sighed. This was getting her nowhere. She may as well just come out and say it. If he doesn't know and he thinks she's crazy, then so be it. "You're Merlin, aren't you?"  
  
Melvin choked on air, coughing a few times to clear his throat. "E-excuse me?" he rasped.  
  
"You. You're Merlin. And Emrys. I must admit, I never saw that coming."  
  
"Wha…what? No… you're…"  
  
"Merlin."  
  
Melvin watched her with wide eyes, carefully taking in every move, every twitch. Morissa thought he looked like he was preparing for an attack, which he probably was.  
  
"Merlin, I'm sorry." Morissa took a shuddering breath as images of all the horrible things she'd done flooded to the forefront of her mind. "I'm sorry. For everything. I was so lost in my anger and grief that it clouded my judgement. I'm not proud of what I did and I'm glad it was you that killed me. I forgive you. For not telling me about your magic, for those times when you attacked me, and for my death. And I'm sorry. So, so sorry."  
  
Melvin's initial shock quickly shifted to suspicion. Morgana had acted the loving woman once before, perhaps he was expecting it again now. Or maybe she was wrong and he was simply just Melvin.  
  
"Please, Merlin. I know you probably find this hard to believe but it's true. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you, please tell me. I don't ask for acceptance, or even forgiveness; I don't deserve that. Please, trust me when I say that I just want to make things right."   
  
"...I forgive you."


	7. Chapter 7

"I forgive you," Merlin found himself saying. Because, despite himself, he did. But, seeing the look of elation on her face, he felt the need to add, "But don't think this means I'm okay with what you did and, as I'm sure you know, trust isn't an easy thing to repair."  
  
Morgana had done so many terrible things; she'd killed so many of his friends, had taken away his best friend (indirectly), and had been a great source of emotional turmoil in his life as he pondered the 'what if's and the regrets. For her to sit here, in front of him, in another life with a different perspective and apologise, genuinely remorseful, was a big thing. Granted, she had pulled this trick before back in Camelot, but Merlin could tell that the tears in her eyes and the pleading tone that she was genuinely sorry.  
  
 _What?! You're going to forgive her? Are you crazy?! You do realise what she did to me, right? What everything she has done has cost us? You're an idiot, Merlin. The second you turn your back history will repeat itself. Do you really want to live through Arthur's death again? She's probably working as a spy for Morgause!_  
  
 _Damn_ , Merlin mentally cursed. For a moment he had forgotten not-Gwaine was there. He could practically feel the resentment rolling off the apparition. It wasn't heartening to know that it was directed at both corporeal bodies in the room.   
  
The first tear slipped down Morissa's cheek and she was quick to swipe it away with the palm of her hand. "I know," she nodded quickly, "and I understand. But, hopefully, with time things can start to go back to the way they were…" She paused, apparently in deep thought. "So, then, it really is you? Not someone who just looks like you?"  
  
"Yes. It's really me."  
  
"Do… do you still have magic? In this life, I mean."  
  
Merlin bit his lip and looked away. His immortality had always been a hard thing to talk about, but Morgana seemed to not know the full implications of the title 'Emrys'. "Of course I have magic. It's not like it's going to suddenly go away one day. You taught me that, actually. I guess I should thank you."  
  
"I don't understand. Do you mean you've had it since you were born? Was it like that in your past life?"  
  
"Yes, I was born with magic. No, I don't have a past life… that I remember, anyway."  
  
"What do you mean? Surely you can't be saying that you never died? It's been a millennia since then. No man could live that long."  
  
"I told you before, Emrys means immortal."  
  
Had he been looking up, Merlin would have been prepared for Morgana suddenly getting up and wrapping him in an awkward hug as she leaned over the desk.  
  
"That is too cruel," she whispered. After a moment she pulled away, sighing heavily as she resettled herself in the chair. "So, am I the only one to return or are there others?"  
  
"Aithusa claims to have seen Gwen, but other than her and Arthur–"  
  
 _I can't believe you're just giving away all this information! What if she turns against you again? She could hurt one of them and it'll be on your head. Again._  
  
"Aithusa?! She's still alive? And Gwen? Arthur's back? So the prophecy was true, then?"  
  
Merlin raised his eyebrows at the sudden onslaught of questions. Noticing his expression, Morgana was quick to silence herself.  
  
"Aithusa died about five hundred years ago, but both she and Kilgharrah have been reborn."  
  
"Kilgharrah?"  
  
"The Great Dragon," Merlin elaborated. Morgana looked surprised but said nothing. "I haven't actually seen Gwen personally, but Aithusa wouldn't lie about something like this. As for Arthur, he turned up at my house last Saturday."   
  
"I should like to apologise to Arthur, and see Aithusa…"  
  
"Arthur gets pretty bored being locked up all day; I might be able to convince him to come with me to work. I could probably try a cloaking spell on Aithusa." Merlin seemed to go into himself as he continued, "Although Kilgharrah won't want to be left at home by himself…man he's grumpy…"  
  
Morgana laughed lightly. "I'd like that."

 

* * *

 

 

For someone who had left that morning in low spirits, Merlin seemed very cheery to Arthur.   
  
"I take it you had a good day." He watched as Merlin put down his bag and washed his hands in the sink before beginning to prepare dinner.  
  
"Yes, actually. Better work day than I've had in a long while." Merlin looked over to him. "I'd say you didn't."  
  
"Well it's not my fault there's nothing to do in here, or that you lock the door with magic."  
  
"Can't have you wandering off and getting lost."  
  
"You could at least let me go look for Guinevere. Speaking of which, why haven't we started looking?"  
  
"Because at the time she was spotted we were having dinner and we haven't had time since. And don't worry about being bored tomorrow, cause you're coming with me to work; I'll get you to help me translate some documents."  
  
"What? _Mer_ lin, why am I going to your work? I thought you didn't want me to go anywhere?"  
  
"Morgana wants to see you."  
  
That statement managed to make every occupant of the room (except Merlin) flinch and tense. Arthur was going to Merlin's workplace because Morgana wanted to see him. Was he out of his mind?!  
  
"Oh, and you, Aithusa. And I'm not leaving Kilgharrah on his own. So you're all going."  
  
"Are you crazy?" Arthur stared at him incredulously. "Do you not remember what she did?"  
  
"She apologised. She wants to make it up to us."  
  
"Oh, so you're trusting her simply because she said she's sorry. Well, far be it for me to have any doubts," Arthur replied sarcastically.   
  
"Arthur is right, Merlin," Kilgharrah said in his best 'wise' voice. "You should not be so quick to trust the witch."  
  
"Well, you can see for yourself tomorrow because, like it or not, you're coming. Either that or I'll bring her here." Merlin said in a tone of finality.  
  
"Merlin," Kilgharrah warned.  
  
"Look, I already received the lecture from Gwaine, I don't need it from you, too."  
  
"Gwaine?" Arthur frowned.  
  
Too late Merlin realised what he had said and froze in place. "Ah… that is to say…"  
  
"It was a hallucination wasn't it?" Aithusa asked quietly.  
  
"...Yes," Merlin sighed. "He was following me around for hours and happened to be there when I was talking to Morgana."  
  
From Merlin's subdued tone and his slightly hunched shoulders, Arthur deducted that this was a very sensitive topic. And, not being very good at being sensitive, he decided that getting back to the main problem would be beneficial for all parties.   
  
"Who's to say that she won't attack us while your guard's down?"   
  
Merlin looked up at him. "Who said anything about my guard being down? I forgive her, but that doesn't mean I accept what she did and it definitely doesn't mean that I trust her. Not completely. If she tries anything it'll be the last thing she ever does."  
  
"You sound fairly confident. Did you forget how much trouble she was in the past?"  
  
"I've had 1500 years to practice magic. She's only about 20 in this life and I'd say she's only just figured out who she is, so whatever skills she's managed to acquire in that short time would hardly be a match for mine; that's not bragging, just fact."  
  
"You're not going to give me a choice, are you?"  
  
"You don't have to come; I just thought you'd like to get out of the house for once."  
  
"Alright! Fine! I'll go. But you'd better be right…"

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin felt strange walking up the steps to the museum with an ancient King and two dragons – even if said king couldn't be discerned from the rest of the population and the dragons were invisible to all except those who knew they were there.  
  
The stares from his colleagues were also rather unsettling; even Arthur, who was used to getting attention, was looking intimidated. That probably had something to do with Merlin's 'outcast' status. They were used to seeing him on his own, walking silently, rather than alongside someone else and upholding a conversation.  
  
"So this is where you work? The… uh, museum?" Arthur tilted his head back to get a good look at the arched ceiling.  
  
"Yup. I was planning to bring you here at one point – they have artefacts here from around our own time period and I thought it might be good for you."   
  
"I want to see the dinosaurs!" Aithusa chirped, but was quickly silenced by Merlin. She may not be able to be seen, but she could still be heard.  
  
"Alright, I'll incorporate that into part of the tour."  
  
" _Melvin!_ "  
  
Merlin turned to see Peter smiling widely and moving towards them. Aithusa jumped out of the way before he could step on her.  
  
"Why did he call you Melvin?" Arthur asked.  
  
"It's a fake name; Merlin isn't exactly common in this era."   
  
" _Good morning, Melvin,_ " Peter smiled. " _I'm Peter, how do you do?"_ he held his hand out to Arthur.  
  
"What is he saying?" Arthur, recognising the gesture, shook Peter's hand.  
  
"He says his name is Peter and he's asking how you are." Merlin was beginning to think he should have taken some time to look for a suitable language spell. " _This is a good friend of mine, Arthur. He doesn't speak much English. He's been staying with me for the last few days so I thought I'd give him a tour of the museum."_  
  
"Ah, of course! If I can be of any assistance, you know where to find me!" With a final smile, Peter turned and headed to another arriving employee.  
  
"He's my boss," Merlin explained as he led Arthur, Kilgharrah and Aithusa through to his department.

 

* * *

 

 

When Morissa turned up for work that morning, she knew that she would be reuniting with Arthur and Aithusa at some point during the day. 'Melvin', who was usually ignored, had become the centre of gossip. Her co-workers had retold that they'd seen him walking in alongside a blonde man and, not only was he talking, but he was _smiling_.   
  
Morissa couldn't help but smile, herself. Merlin had seemed so on-edge the few times she'd seen him, so for him to be happy enough to actually smile was a big thing. And the mentioned blonde could only be Arthur, which meant either Arthur had agreed to see her, or Merlin had forced him to come. Either way she would be getting to apologise to her half-brother.   
  
Her break couldn't come soon enough.  
  
  
Keeping two dragons and a bored prat in his office turned out to be a harder task than Merlin anticipated. Kilgharrah was well behaved, quite enjoying to sit on a cleared space on Merlin's desk and read over his shoulder. No, Kilgharrah wasn't the problem.  
  
Aithusa seemed to refuse to sit still for more than two seconds at a time. Her ceaseless restlessness had almost cost the lives of several important documents (thankfully, Merlin had been able to repair them with magic) and she hadn't stopped trying to convince him to let her wander around since they'd arrived. Merlin had already promised to take her to see the exhibits on his break, but apparently she couldn't wait.  
  
Arthur wasn't much better. While he was able to read some of the documents, he had no love for literature like Merlin did and so, sat sprawled in the small armchair in the corner moaning about being bored and constantly asking how Merlin managed to sit there every day.   
  
Thankfully, the noisy atmosphere had allowed Merlin's mind to stay preoccupied and, so far, no apparitions had decided to haunt him.   
  
Why had he thought bringing them here would be a good idea?  
  
Just when he was about to order Aithusa to sit down and shut up, a sharp knock on the door did the job for him. After a moment of all occupants of the room sitting frozen in place, Merlin found his voice and bid the visitor to enter.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgana opened the door and stepped into Merlin's office, shutting it gently behind her. The first thing she noticed was Merlin sitting at his desk watching her intensely. She offered him a bright smile and was relieved to see him return it, albeit a small one that was only a shadow of how she remembered it.  
  
Her gaze then roamed until her eyes locked with a blonde man sitting in the armchair.   
  
Arthur.  
  
He was exactly how she remembered him, except for the modern clothes. He even bore the stern, intense expression, as if daring her to try something. He would be happy to know she had no such things in mind.  
  
"I take it Aithusa didn't come?" she broke the uncomfortable silence, noting the absence of the white reptile.  
  
"Both she and Kilgharrah are in the room," Merlin replied casually, although his expression mirrored Arthur's suspicion. "They're under a cloaking spell so those who don't know they're there won't see them."  
  
And just like that, two extra bodies appeared in her vision. Seated on the desk beside Merlin was a small golden dragon, watching her with obvious hatred. That could only be the Great Dragon, although she found it was a weird feeling to see him so small.  
  
Beside Arthur sat Aithusa. Morgana was overjoyed to see the small dragon looking healthier than she'd ever been. Her body was no longer twisted and crippled, and her skin was covered in gleaming white scales. She was, however, disappointed to see the love that was once in Aithusa's eyes was now an uneasy caution.  
  
Figuring it would be best to start with the familiar, Morgana knelt down in place and stared into Aithusa's bright blue eyes.  
  
"Hello, Aithusa," she said as calmly as possible. "It's been a long time. I'm glad to see you looking so well."  
  
Aithusa said nothing, still holding her gaze warily. After a moment, she turned her head to look at Merlin, as if asking for permission. At Merlin's slight nod, Aithusa's attention returned to the reincarnated witch.  
  
"My lady," Aithusa nodded her head in a brief bow.   
  
Morgana couldn't stop the beaming grin that worked its way onto her face at the sound of the white dragon's voice. It was a sound she'd never thought she would hear. The Aithusa she remembered had been crippled to the point of muteness.   
  
Feeling like she had gained some ground, Morgana shifted her attention to her half-brother, who was gripping the armrests of the chair in a white knuckled grip. She couldn't tell if he was restraining himself from attacking her or if he was nervous.  
  
"Arthur," she tried to keep her voice steady. "I… I'm so sorry for everything that happened. I have wronged you in so many ways. Because of me, you have lost so much. I know that it is impossible for me to make amends for my actions, but I will try. I truly am sorry. If I could take it all back, I would do so without a second's hesitation."  
  
Arthur's grip slackened but did not let go. There was a spark in his eyes, as if he was trying to connect the past Morgana with this new, reincarnated version – without the tainted soul that had tried to kill him on so many occasions (and had eventually succeeded).  
  
"…I don't think I can forgive you," Arthur began slowly and Morgana felt her heart shatter. "But I am willing to continue on and move past what happened." Morgana smiled again. Arthur must have noticed the sudden change, for he quickly added, "This doesn't mean I trust you. I will be keeping a close eye on you."  
  
"Of course! I understand completely. You would be a fool to trust me right away." Feeling more confident than she had a few moments before, Morgana stood and nodded to the Great Dragon; the last being yet to address. "I don't believe I've had the honour of meeting you."  
  
The glare she received had her biting the inside of her cheek. "Morgana, unlike these three I have had no direct contact with you in the past life," his tone had a hard edge to it and she struggled to fight the urge to take a step back. "However, your actions have still caused a great deal of harm to me and I am not quick to overlook the past."  
  
"I don't expect you to." It was clear that Kilgharrah was going to be the hardest one to win over. The room lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Digging around for something to say, Morgana turned back to her half-brother. "So Arthur, how are you liking the modern world?"  
  
Merlin gave a barely contained snort of amusement and Morgana looked at him with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"It's certainly different. But I'm getting used to it." Arthur's attention hadn't left her for a moment and she was starting to feel uncomfortable. But at least he was willing to talk to her in friendly conversation.  
  
Yes, Morgana thought, she could fix this.


	8. Chapter 8

As he moved into the living room, Arthur's eyes fell upon the form of Merlin, who was standing with a hand on his chin as he stared critically at the wall as if it had wronged him somehow. He silently watched the scene play out for a moment before his curiosity got the better of him and he asked, "What are you doing?"  
  
Merlin spared him a quick glance before returning his gaze to the wall. "Thinking."  
  
"Well don't think too hard, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."  
  
"Aw, you _do_ care," Merlin grinned, placing a hand on the smooth wood.  
  
Arthur let the gibe pass with a noncommittal grunt. "Seriously, what are you doing?"  
  
"What about the trees?" Aithusa suddenly asked. "Are they far enough back?"  
  
"I think so," Merlin replied, ignoring Arthur's question. "But, then, I don't plan on making it very big."  
  
Aithusa turned and appraised Arthur for a moment before returning her attention to her Dragonlord. By now, Kilgharrah had also taken an interest in the proceedings and stopped beside the slightly smaller white dragon.   
  
Merlin's eyes flashed gold as he uttered, " _Weallgeweorc, gelíc gerúm ætíe_."  
  
As he spoke, the wall inverted as a doorway appeared, through which Arthur could see wooden walls rising up from seemingly nowhere. A roof appeared on top and the ground levelled out into a wooden floor. Merlin removed his hand and stepped through the newly formed doorway, admiring his handiwork.   
  
And suddenly Arthur understood.  
  
Merlin had built him a room.  
  
"So," Merlin grinned from ear to ear. "What do you want in it?"  
  
"Well, the usual bedroom things would be a good start," Arthur said mockingly but there was a smile on his face.  
  
Merlin turned away from him and held a hand out towards the far wall. " _Beddrest ætíe innan þesgeruma._ " He did the same in several other spots in the room, the spell used altering slightly each time, and soon the once bare room was filled with a large bed, a side table, a dresser and a mirror – which Merlin had claimed was so he wouldn't hog the bathroom to appease his vanity.  
  
It took only a few minutes to move Arthur's meagre belongings from Merlin's room to his new one.  


* * *

 

  
"While I'm thinking of it," Merlin announced as he, Arthur, and the two dragons (disguised as dogs) headed down the path to the main road, "Do you want me to make it so you can understand the newer English?"  
  
Arthur hesitated. Yes, he wanted to be able to interact properly in this new world, but he was still just getting used to magic and he wasn't sure how he felt about willingly having it used on him. They were currently going on a search for Guinevere – Merlin finally had a day off – but what if they found her and she only spoke modern English? If he didn't let Merlin cast the spell on him, he would have to learn it the hard way and who knew how long that would take?  
  
"Alright, fine," Arthur sighed heavily. "Do it."  
  
Merlin stopped and turned so they were directly facing each other. Almost hesitantly, Merlin reached out and placed his palm on Arthur's forehead. With unnerving gold irises, Merlin spoke the incantation. Then the hand was gone and all eyes were watching him expectantly.  
  
" _Did it work?_ " Merlin asked, hope glimmering in his eyes.  
  
"I don't know, I don't feel any different."  
  
But Merlin was smiling again and even the dog-dragons looked pleased.  
  
"What?" Arthur suddenly felt very self-conscious.  
  
" _Can you understand what I'm saying?"  
  
_ "Yeah…" and then he realised that Merlin wasn't talking in Old English. " _Oh_ , then I guess it worked."  
  
"Try talking in modern English," Merlin suggested as they resumed walking.  
  
"What should I say?"  
  
"I don't know. Anything. Try introducing yourself or something."  
  
Arthur frowned in concentration. "Uh… _Hello, I'm Arthur Pendragon?_ "  
  
"We'll have to fix that," Merlin matched his frown as they emerged from the forest and stepped onto the pavement lining the road.  
  
"Fix what?"  
  
"You can't go around calling yourself Pendragon in this day and age or people will think you're insane."  
  
"What? Why? What’s wrong with Pendragon?"  
  
There was something Merlin wasn't telling him. Like when he had explained that he used a fake name simply because 'Merlin' wasn't common anymore. It hadn't been common to begin with! There was definitely something more to it.   
  
"Merlin," he said seriously. "I thought there were no more secrets between us."  
  
Merlin looked guiltily away. "Well… you see… there are, um, legends. About us. And the Knights of the Round Table and just Camelot in general."  
  
Arthur stopped dead in his tracks. "Wait. Legends?"  
  
"Yeah. We're pretty famous. But they're horribly inaccurate. For some reason, everyone seems to think I'm an old man–"  
  
"You are an old man." And, though it pained him to say it, it was true. He really was.  
  
"–with a long white beard. I only used that aging spell a handful of times!" Merlin huffed. "And don't even get me started on you. Some people think that Mordred was your son."  
  
Arthur choked on air. "What?!"  
  
Merlin shook his head with an incredulous laugh, signalling for them to keep moving.  
  
"At least you're mentioned," Aithusa spoke up, sharing a meaningful glance with Kilgharrah. "The only real mention of dragons is when they're being slain."  
  
Arthur didn't miss the pained expression that flickered across his manservant's face.  
  
By that point they had reached the edge of the central part of the town.  
  
"So where should we start looking?" Arthur asked, scanning the streets as if expecting to see Gwen step out to greet them.  
  
"Well, Aithusa said she saw her across the road from the restaurant we ate at, so that's probably the best place to start." Merlin looked down at the two dog-dragons. "You two let me know if you see anything – but not out loud," he quickly added. The last thing they needed was for people to freak out.  
  
The four-legged companions nodded their agreement and kept vigilant look-out. Their senses were superior, after all.*   
  
In a matter of minutes they had reached the point where Gwen had been spotted but there was no sign of the queen. Not that any of them had expected to see her there, but nevertheless there was still that small feeling of disappointment.  
  
Aithusa had taken to more dog-like habits and was sniffing at everything in sight, trying to identify a scent that she could associate with Gwen. Kilgharrah gave her odd glances every now and again and, although no words were exchanged between them, Merlin was sure he was just a little bit irritated by Aithusa's actions. But, to be fair, she was still young. Not everybody had to act mature like Kilgharrah.  
  
Merlin was broken out of his ponderings as both Kilgharrah and Aithusa's heads shot up. Kilgharrah, being mature and responsible, remained in place but Aithusa bolted, barking loudly as she went.

 

* * *

 

 

Gwendolyn stretched and took off her apron. It was finally her lunch break and she was looking forward to sitting down for a rest.  
  
"I'll be back in half an hour," she called out to her co-workers before promptly heading out of the café and onto the main street.  
  
She had only taken a few steps before the sound of a dog barking caught her attention and she turned around just as a pure white dog with blue eyes jumped up on her, almost knocking her off her feet. It was the dog that she had seen only a few days prior. The dog belonging to the real world version of 'Arthur and Merlin'.  
  
"Oh, hello," she said, easing the dog back to the ground and kneeling before it. "Are you lost? Where are your owners?" she asked as she petted its head.  
  
She grabbed the small silver tag hanging from the dog's collar and flipped it over, reading the name that was inscribed there.  
  
 _Aithusa_.  
  
No. No, it wasn't possible! Gwen's hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the impossible word. In her dreams, Aithusa had been the white dragon that had allied with Morgana. Aithusa had been the same dragon that she had grown so fond of when she went to visit Merlin by the lake all those years after Arthur's death. Surely it was just a coincidence. Right?  
  
"They're coming! Gwen! It's really Gwen!"  
  
Gwen sat rigid as she stared wide eyed at Aithusa, whose tail was wagging a mile a minute. She had _not_ just heard the dog talk. There was _no way_ that was possible. _Good lord, I really_ am _going mental_.  
  
The sounds of pounding footsteps had her looking up to see 'Arthur' and 'Merlin' stopping a few paces short of her, both sporting wide-eyed expressions. By 'Merlin's' side was another dog, but this one was golden in colour.  
  
Aithusa turned away from her and lowered her head at the stern expression she was receiving from both 'Merlin' and the golden dog (if dogs were capable of such expressions). 'Merlin' bent down and attached a leash to the white dog's collar, muttering "If you don't want to be restricted, don't run off."  
  
Gwen slowly rose to her feet, her eyes never leaving the two men who were the spitting image of the two from her recurring dreams. What kind of coincidence was this? How had her mind been able to come up with such a thing – to even make a dragon form out of the white dog, and know its name?  
  
Something in her eyes must have given away her confusion, for the blonde uttered an almost inaudible, "Gwen?"  
  
"Arthur?" She wasn't sure why she had called him by that name, nor why her voice shook with such emotion that was both foreign and so familiar at the same time. But when he merely nodded, she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. It was real. _The dreams were real_. The tears were falling now, streaming down her cheeks like a dam had burst. Without thinking about what she was doing, she raced forward and flung herself into his arms, calling his name like she expected him to be torn away once more.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur wrapped his arms around Guinevere – _his_ Guinevere – and held her close. He couldn't believe it was really her. Couldn't believe that even now, over a thousand years out of his time, Gwen was with him. He wasn't sure what he would've done without her unwavering support.  
  
Throughout their exchange, Merlin had stood to the side, a firm grip on Aithusa's leash to stop her from her public displays of affection for the queen getting in the way of their moment, and absently stroking Kilgharrah's head with his free hand. Kilgharrah didn't look pleased but nor did he pull away. In that moment, Arthur felt a stab of guilt pierce him. Here he was, revelling in the presence of his love, while Merlin had to stand on without his. He would never forgive himself for what he had done, even if Merlin didn't blame him.  
  
Gwen pulled herself out of his embrace and looked him in the eyes. "Oh, Arthur, I can't believe it's really you!" she cried, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. "I… I always thought they were just dreams, but now…" she trailed off and turned her attention to Merlin. "Merlin," she spoke quietly and a fresh wave of tears began to fall, for once at a loss for words. "You're here. You… did you ever…?"  
  
Merlin shook his head sadly. "It's alright, Gwen." He gave her his biggest smile but that only seemed to upset her further and she moved over to him and wrapped him in a hug. Gwen had been with him the longest; the first friend he'd made and the last one to leave. She had continued to visit him after the others had passed, and when she became too old to make such a journey, he went to her. She had been with him, as she aged and he remained untainted by time, through thick and thin. And only she had seen the full implications of his seemingly endless life.  
  
God, how he'd missed her.  
  
"That fate is too cruel," she sniffed. "But it's good to see you again."  
  
"And you," Merlin replied, returning the gesture.   
  
Once she had pulled away, Gwen averted her attention to the two dogs. "You named her Aithusa," she smiled, scratching behind the white dog's ears.  
  
"Well, that _was_ her name; I saw no reason in changing it."  
  
Gwen froze and stared long and hard at both Merlin and Aithusa. "Wait. Surely you don't mean…"  
  
"Oh!" Merlin seemed to catch on to what she was saying. "Well, yes and no. This is the Aithusa you remember, but like you she has been reborn." He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, "She's in disguise."  
  
"So I'm not delusional. She really did speak."  
  
Merlin looked surprised but quickly turned his expression into a glare which he directed at Aithusa who had the sense to look apologetic.   
  
"Who's this?" Gwen asked, gesturing to Kilgharrah.  
  
"Oh, right. You two never met in person, huh?" Merlin ruffled the fur on top of Kilgharrah's head, earning him a low growl. "This is Kilgharrah, or perhaps more memorable as the Great Dragon."  
  
" _That's_ the Great Dragon?" Gwen parroted in disbelief, her tone no longer betraying her emotional state. Upon seeing the look on Kilgharrah's face, however, she quickly amended, "Oh, I didn't mean that in a bad sense, it's just that you're a lot smaller than last time and in a completely different form. And last time you were attacking everybody but now you just seem so docile. Not to say that this form or being docile is bad or anything–"  
  
"Gwen," Merlin interrupted, a lilting tone to his voice. "It's okay."  
  
Gwen quickly clamped her mouth shut. As if suddenly remembering something important, she looked down at the watch on her wrist. "Oh," she exclaimed. "I'm only on my lunch break; I have to head back to the café in twenty minutes."  
  
"What time do you get off?" Arthur asked, looking at the small clock curiously.  
  
"Three."  
  
"We'll come get you, then," Merlin suggested.   
  
"Would you all like to come around to my place for dinner?"  
  
"We'd love to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I've gotta say, while dogs have great senses, in my personal experience they seem to be rather blind. Even after pointing to the piece of food on the ground for several long minutes they still can't see it and look at me like I'm mental. Ignoring this, Kilgharrah and Aithusa are dragons, and therefore have brilliant eye sight and do not require you to point at a scrap of food for hours on end before you eventually just give up and hand it to them.


	9. Chapter 9

Dinner at Gwen's house had been… different, to say the least. Unlike Merlin's little lake-side shack, it was undeniably modern, with all the features and appliances one would expect to see in a house of that era. And Arthur thought Merlin's technology had been complicated.   
  
Kilgharrah and Aithusa had returned to their true forms upon Gwen's insistence, and Aithusa had stuck to the queen like glue the entire night.  
  
When all had settled down to eat, Gwen had told them about her current life – her parents weren't the same ones as before but her brother, whose name was Evan, was indeed Elyan. She told them about her job at the café, and the dreams she'd been having. At Arthur's insistence, she told of her life as queen after Camlan, how the others died and, finally, how she herself had gone. At this point she had started crying – not for herself, but for Merlin. After all, his life had continued on long after Camelot.  
  
Both Arthur and Gwen had asked about what had happened to Camelot, so Merlin told them. His voice rich with emotion, Merlin spoke of the turmoil the kingdom had fallen into without an heir to claim the throne. How various nobles had argued and fought amongst themselves over who would be the next ruler. How neighbouring kingdoms had seized the moment of weakness and invaded. And how he had done nothing to stop them. In his eyes, without Gwen and Arthur, there was no point. Camelot would have only been tarnished by another monarch – better to just let it go. The two royals had grieved for their kingdom, but did not blame their friend in the slightest.  
  
When the night wore on and the time came for them to leave, they said their goodbyes like it was their last. Gwen had promised that the next time they met she would have Elyan with her.

 

* * *

 

 

"Good morning, _Melvin_."  
  
Merlin frowned as an elbow was jabbed into his side. Morgana grinned at him, readjusting the handle of her bag on her shoulder.  
  
" _Morissa_ ," he returned with a smirk and a slight nod of his head.  
  
"How was your weekend?" she asked, falling into step beside him as they moved through the museum's entrance hall.  
  
"Caught up with Gwen."  
  
Morgana stopped dead in her tracks. "Gwen? You found _Gwen_?!"  
  
"Actually, Aithusa found Gwen. But, yes, we did."  
  
Morgana's smile broadened and Merlin found himself smiling too at the pure, untainted joy that lit up her face. "Could you please take me with you next time you go see her?"  
  
Merlin opened his mouth to respond but quickly slammed it shut, his eyes widening as he took in the cluster of police and investigators standing around a strip of yellow tape blocking the entrance to the medieval section.  
  
"What happened?" he asked, hurrying over to the nearest officer. At the hesitant look the officer gave him he added, "I work here."  
  
"There was a break-in last night."  
  
"What?" Morgana tried to see past the authorities and into the next room. "What was stolen?"  
  
"Nothing," the officer replied. "Whatever they were looking for, they didn't find it."  
  
Merlin furrowed his brow. That section in particular was filled with priceless artefacts. Why would someone break in and not take _anything_?  
  
Seeing the two weren't going to say anything more, the officer excused himself and returned to the investigation.   
  
Merlin and Morgana exchanged a look.  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
Merlin and Morgana stepped aside, apologies on the tips of their tongues but stopped when they saw who was behind them.  
  
"Leon?!" they cried in unison. For the man was the spitting image of Arthur's second in command back in Camelot. Merlin thought the police uniform suited him well.  
  
Leon frowned, obviously confused. His eyes widened with something akin to recognition but before he had the chance to voice his thoughts, he was interrupted.  
  
"Officer Stiles!"  
  
Leon turned his attention to the officer who had called him and, with a muttered apology to the two dumbstruck museum workers, joined the rest of his team.  
  
Noting the time, Merlin and Morgana pulled themselves away from the site and headed towards their respective sections, whispering and looking back over their shoulders as they went.

 

* * *

 

 

Leon Stiles was frustrated. He was supposed to be focusing on the investigation! So why was it he couldn't seem to keep his mind off the two museum employees from earlier? It was unnerving, the way they had known exactly who he was despite never having met. Unless…  
  
No. Dreams were just the product of an active mind. They weren't real.  
  
So why couldn't he stop thinking about it?  
  
The man… he was identical to Merlin, Arthur's manservant, right down to the neckerchief tied around his neck. And the woman…  
  
She was the spitting image of Morgana.  
  
Leon's heart clenched. What if she _was_ Morgana? What if, somehow, the dreams were real? Morgana had turned against them, done everything in her power to kill them all and take the throne. And, right now, she was close to Merlin.  
  
Despite how ridiculous it was, Leon was consumed with an unyielding desire to hurry and find Merlin; to protect him from the witch that wouldn't hesitate to kill him – all-powerful warlock or not.  
  
"I'm going to take my lunch break," he announced, heading off in the direction he had seen the raven-haired man disappear earlier that morning. He ignored the niggling thought that the dream-induced paranoia was getting to him. He knew he wouldn't be able to focus on his job if he didn't at least check.  
  
Leon paused as it occurred to him that he had no idea what section Merlin worked in. Spotting an information desk, he wandered over, prepared to use his position of authority to find the man, if necessary.  
  
"Hello, how can I help you?" the plump woman behind the desk smiled pleasantly.  
  
"I'm looking for one of the employees. He's tall, dark hair, red neckerchief," Leon described.  
  
"Oh, you must mean Melvin." She glanced at her watch and grabbed a visitor map. "At this time he should still be in his office." As she spoke, she drew arrows on the map and circled the coloured block that represented Melvin's office. "He's not in trouble, is he?"  
  
"No," Leon smiled, taking the offered map. "I just wanted to speak with him."  
  
"Good luck, then."  
  
Leon met her eyes, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them.  
  
"It's just, he's a bit hard to approach," she explained. "Not much of a talker; prefers his own company. Oh, but you're an officer. I'm sure you'll have no trouble."  
  
Leon nodded his thanks and followed the directions on the map. _Hard to approach and not much of a talker? That doesn't sound like Merlin at all…_ A door marked 'Literature  & Archives' signalled the end of his journey and he smiled at the name tag labelled 'Melvin Emery' underneath. He knocked lightly and waited for the call of 'enter' before opening the door.  
  
The literature and archive section reminded him strongly of the library in his dreams of Camelot. Shelves containing a vast amount of books and papers took up the majority of the space and doors showed promise of more out of sight. A small armchair was pushed up against the side of one of the shelves and a large wooden desk stood opposite it.  
  
Seated at the desk was none other than Melvin himself, who was concentrating on a piece of parchment spread on the desk in front of him. He glanced up at Leon and quickly got to his feet, an expression of surprise on his face.  
  
"Officer?" he nodded in greeting.  
  
And then Leon realised he hadn't thought through what he was going to say. 'Hi, I just wanted to make sure Morgana didn't kill you'? There was no way that would go down well.  
  
"Is there something I can help you with?" Melvin asked uncertainly.  
  
"Earlier… how did you know my name?" It really had been bothering him.  
  
"Oh… um, well… I guess I mistook you for someone else… who happens to be called Leon."  
  
Leon could tell by the man's slightly flustered tone and the way he was tapping his fingers on the desk that there was more to it than that.  
  
"So, uh, how do you like working in the police force?"  
  
"I enjoy it," Leon replied, noting the way Melvin had changed the subject. He moved further into the room to scan the titles of various tomes lining the shelves. "I guess I've always had a calling to do something to protect – both the people and my country. What about you? Enjoy museum work?"  
  
Melvin fidgeted. "It has its perks. I figured, if I have the knowledge I may as well put it to good use." His voice had taken on a harder edge, hinting to a deeper meaning in his words.  
  
"Well, I've got to get back to work." Leon grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket and quickly scrawled down his phone number on a piece of note paper. "If you learn anything on the break-in, give me a call; I'm head of the investigation," he explained at Melvin's questioning look.  
  
Melvin nodded again and watched in silence as Leon left the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgana looked up from her salad roll as Merlin walked into the staff common room.  
  
" _Melvin_ ," she called in the mocking tone they had started using when calling each other by their fake names.   
  
Merlin looked back at her from where he was pouring boiling water into a cup of instant noodles.   
  
"Come sit," she encroached, patting the free spot beside her invitingly. The other employees watched her with raised eyebrows, but she ignored them.  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes but obliged, setting his lunch down on the small coffee table while it cooked.  
  
"You know, _Melvin_ , you should really eat healthier."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry, _Morissa_ ," he smirked. "I didn't know my lunch had to meet your standards."  
  
"Well it does, so do try to do better tomorrow." Really, why were the others so shocked to see the man partaking in a conversation? Had any of them even _tried_ talking to him?  
  
"It's good enough for Arthur." The unspoken 'and he's a king' was not left unnoticed.  
  
"Good Lord, you haven't got him hooked on junk food, have you?"  
  
"No, but I don't trust him to cook and I didn't have time to make anything better this morning."  
  
"Scared he's gonna burn your house down?"  
  
"Yes, actually. Even Kilgharrah and Aithusa are more trustworthy in that aspect." He picked up his noodles and began mixing them with his fork. "Leon stopped by my department earlier."  
  
Morgana, who had been about to take another bite of her toll, paused. "Did he recognise you?"  
  
"I don't know. He asked why I knew his name but I could tell that wasn't the real reason he came."  
  
"What did you tell him?"  
  
"That I must have mistaken him with someone else."  
  
"And he bought that?" Morgana asked sceptically. She couldn't begin to fathom how Merlin had kept his secret in Camelot for so long when he was so terrible at lying.  
  
Merlin shrugged and ate a mouthful of noodles. "It could be like what happened with Gwen… and you."  
  
Morgana went to reply but noticed the other employees pretending not to be listening. " _You think he could just be trying to figure out why he has dreams about people he doesn't remember meeting?_ " The switch to Old English was easier than she thought it should be. She was pleased to note the confused faces on the other employees' faces.  
  
" _Could be. I mean, we did call out his name. He gave me his number, in any case_." Seeing the look on her face he hastily added, " _Told me to call him if I had any information on the break-in._ "  
  
" _Maybe we should let him meet Arthur. That might jog his memory._ "  
  
" _… That might not be such a bad idea_."  
  
" _You doubted me?_ "  
  
" _Well, to be fair, most of your other plans failed._ "  
  
Morgana whacked him in the arm with an expression of mock insult. " _No thanks to you._ " Her voice became solemn and she looked down at her half-eaten lunch. " _I'm glad they did._ "  
  
"And through here is the staff common room," Peter's voice called from the other side of the door. The door opened, revealing aforementioned man. Following closely behind was a man that had both Merlin's and Morgana's mouths dropping open in shock.  
  
" _Percival?!_ "


	10. Chapter 10

_"Percival?!"_

 

All eyes turned to Merlin and Morgana at their sudden outburst, but Merlin hardly noticed. His attention was firmly stuck on the bear of a man who was accompanying Peter.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Peter asked, smiling cautiously.  
  
"Uh, no, sorry," Merlin quickly looked down at his lunch, sneaking glances at the ex-knight every now and then.  
  
"Staff, I would like you to meet Percy Dykes. He will be working as our newest night security guard from today onwards."  
  
There was a general murmur of welcome from the other employees, and Merlin and Morgana turned to each other, a silent ' _are you seeing what I'm seeing?_ ' passing between them. They watched, dumbstruck, as 'Percy' greeted them all with an inclination of his head before following Peter back out of the room.   
  
In unspoken agreement, Merlin and Morgana rose from their seats and left also. They needed somewhere private to talk.  
  
They had barely made it fifty metres before something grabbed Merlin by the arm and hauled him backwards. Too shocked to even gasp, Merlin staggered. When the world had righted itself once more, he looked up to see Percival standing protectively in front of him, staring down a rather wide-eyed Morgana, who stood a few paces ahead.  
  
Before Merlin could so much as call out, Percival was advancing on the witch. He bore no weapon, but he didn't seem too bothered – the memory of Gwaine's death was likely at the forefront of his mind.  
  
"Wait, Percival!" Merlin cried, but if the big man had heard, he showed no sign.  
  
Morgana was speechless, taking a step back for every one Percival took towards her. Without warning, the knight struck out. Throwing caution to the wind, Merlin held out his hand, feeling the magic flowing through him.  
  
" _Oþstille!_ "  
  
Percival froze, his fist mere inches from Morgana's gaping face. Wasting no time, Merlin moved between them, holding his hands towards Percival in a placating manner.  
  
"Thank you, Merlin," Morgana muttered.  
  
Merlin spared her a quick glance before turning back to his friend. "Okay, Perce," he said slowly. "I'm going to let you go, but you have to promise to calm down and hear us out." He released the magic holding Percival with a flash of his eyes, but kept it at the ready in case he needed it again.  
  
Percival straightened his posture and looked worriedly between the two magic users.  
  
"Let's go somewhere we can talk."

 

* * *

 

 

Percy was aware that he had a past life, back in the days of King Arthur and Camelot, when he had been Sir Percival. The memories had come to him in dreams, and their recurring nature indicated they were more than just dreams.  
  
So when he'd followed his new boss into the staff common room and heard twin cries of 'Percival', well, that truly was the final confirmation, wasn't it? He had been delighted to see the young man with the red neckerchief staring at him in disbelief, but the woman next to him quickly replaced that happiness with icy fear and righteous anger. Anger for what she had done, and fear for what she might yet do.  
  
He had been reluctant to leave the room with Peter – what if she attacked Merlin and he didn't get there in time to help him? The raven haired man had been a powerful warlock in the past, but the present was undetermined.  
  
Percival had excused himself at the first opportunity and was just in time to see the two people plaguing his thoughts leaving the staff room. Not willing to let the chance pass, he had grabbed Merlin and shielded the smaller man with his body. Weapon or no, he wouldn't let the _witch_ harm his friends. Never again.  
  
He lunged, ready to pulverize Morgana with his bare hands, but a single word uttered in the language of the Old Religion stopped him in his tracks. Percival couldn't believe his eyes when Merlin moved to _protect Morgana_. Had he sided with her? Or had she put him under some kind of enchantment like she had with Gwen?  
  
"Okay, Perce, I'm going to let you go, but you have to promise to calm down and hear us out," Merlin said soothingly.  
  
Percival could feel movement returning to his limbs as Merlin's eyes flashed a brilliant gold. Yes, he would allow his old friend a chance to explain. There was a perfectly good explanation for why the most loyal man he had ever met was protecting the woman who had caused the deaths of most of his closest friends.  
  
"Let's go somewhere we can talk."  
  
So Percival had willingly followed Merlin and a rather nervous Morgana to the literature and archive department of the museum.

 

* * *

 

 

When they had arrived at Merlin's office, Morgana made a beeline for the armchair before she fell over. Merlin had been genuinely shocked and impressed when she hadn't even tried to defend herself with magic or even more conventional methods.  
  
Merlin leaned against the edge of his desk and looked over at Percival, who was hovering awkwardly in the doorway. He briefly wondered what he should say. The man was clearly waiting for an explanation. It was, surprisingly, Morgana who broke the silence.  
  
"Percival, I am _so, so_ sorry."  
  
This hadn't been what the large man was expecting, if the look on his face was anything to go by.  
  
"The things I did, I know, are unforgiveable," Morgana continued. "I don't want forgiveness. Nothing I ever do would make me worthy of such a thing. All I ask is that you give me another chance; a chance to prove that I've changed and that I'm sincere when I say I only wish to make it up to you." She glanced at Merlin. " _All_ of you."  
  
Percival's face was a mixture of emotions, all fighting for dominance. It was like he was battling wanting to believe her and the memories of everything she had done. It was how Merlin had felt and was the reason he doubted he would ever fully trust her. Trust was much like glass, after all.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, if she tries anything she'll be dealing with me. And I can assure you that I've gotten in a lot of practice over the last 1500 years. I can even hold a sword without impaling myself now."  
  
That got him a ghost of a smile… until the comment about his lifespan sank in.  
  
"Arthur's willing to let her try and prove herself."  
  
Percival's head shot up. "Arthur?"  
  
Merlin grinned at hearing the large man's voice. "Yeah, he's back at my place. Came out of the lake last week."  
  
Percival's smile dropped as he looked over at Morgana. "You took away so many people who were important to me. You _tortured_ Gwaine. And I'll never forgive you for that."  
  
Morgana nodded, her eyes wet with unshed tears.  
  
"But if you truly have changed, then I will trust my king and Merlin's judgment."  
  
Morgana was practically beaming at him and Merlin was sure that was the longest string of words he'd ever heard Percival utter in one go.  
  
"I swear I'll do everything I can to prove it to you. And Merlin," she looked from one to the other. "If I ever go back on my word I give you permission to kill me."  
  
Merlin frowned. He hoped it would never have to come to that.  
  
Percival crossed his arms and raised his brow. "So, Merlin, what was that you said about 1500 years?"

 

* * *

 

 

"Merlin's coming," Aithusa hummed, getting up from where she'd been trying to get comfortable on the rug.  
  
Kilgharrah raised his head towards the door and Arthur sat up straighter in his chair.  
  
As if on cue, the front door swung open and in walked Merlin, a grin splitting his face. "I'm home."  
  
Aithusa hurried over and danced around his feet. "Welcome home~"  
  
 _I found two more today_ , Merlin's voice spoke in her mind.  
  
 _Who did you find?_ Kilgharrah asked.  
  
 _And why are we talking using mind speech?_ Aithusa chimed in.  
  
"You're cheery," Arthur noted.  
  
"I had a good day. Am I not allowed to be cheery?" Telepathically, he added, _Leon and Percival. Percival remembers, but I'm not sure about Leon. I think he at least suspects the truth. I don't think we should tell Arthur yet._  
  
"At least one of us did," Arthur grumbled. "There has to be _something_ decent to do around here."  
  
 _Why not?_ Aithusa frowned.  
  
 _Because that way I can bring them all around at once and surprise him_. "You could clean up."  
  
Arthur looked very much like he wanted to protest – no doubt saying something about kings and servants – but instead sighed and put his head down on the table.  
  
 _What happened to 'no more secrets'?_ Kilgharrah accused.  
  
 _Well, this is a good secret. Like when you plan a surprise party.  
  
Ooh! Can we have a party?!_ Aithusa gasped excitedly.  
  
 _Hmm, maybe we could do something. But let's wait until we find the others._ "So, there was a break-in at the museum last night."  
  
"And you're _happy_ about that?" Arthur looked at him like he was insane.  
  
"What? No, I'm not happy about it! I just thought you would want to know."  
  
"What was taken?" Kilgharrah asked in concern.  
  
"That's just it. Nothing was taken. I don't know who they were or what they were after, but they didn't get it. It might not have even been there for them to find."  
  
"Do you think it might be linked to the reason we all returned?" Aithusa sat down, growing serious.  
  
"I don't know. It might be – it was the medieval section that was broken into – but what were they looking for?"  
  
"Maybe Excalibur," Arthur suggested.  
  
"Well, if that _is_ what they're looking for, they'll never find it.”  
  
"I'm still not happy about that."  
  
"If we need it again, Freya will return it to me."  
  
Arthur fell silent. It was quite clear that he still wasn't okay about _that_ , either. But the only one who blamed him was himself. Kilgharrah blamed Fate, Aithusa the witch who had cursed the druid girl, and Merlin (like Arthur) himself (Merlin). That was something they all tried to change.  
  
Conversation having dwindled, Merlin set about preparing dinner, muttering something about Morgana and approval.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin decided that it might be a good idea to get himself a phone. He had never needed, nor wanted, one before, but with Leon's number sitting in his pocket like a hot coal and the increasing amount of Camelotians popping up, he was starting to think it would be worth it. Besides, if he got a high-tech model, it would give the prat something to do to pass the time.  
  
And so it was that Merlin returned home that day with two new, top-of-the-range phones. He had taken the liberty of setting Arthur's up for him and adding his number to it. He had even gone so far as to using magic to call Gwen and get her number.  
  
Arthur had been greatly confused (and, dare Merlin say it, slightly fearful) by the piece of technology and Merlin was happy to note that the device would keep the king amused for a great while.  
  
Aithusa had been _very_ excited and practically demanded that Merlin take photos of her. He had been sure, much to Kilgharrah's distaste, to get a shot of the two of them together and set it as his wallpaper.  
  
The next day when he went to work, he managed to catch Percival, who was on his way home, and added both his and Morgana's numbers to his contacts list.  
  
He would later find himself to be incredibly grateful for investing in the device.


	11. Chapter 11

_Snow. Falling so tranquilly from the sky despite the red that stains it as it settles._  
  
Swords. Like in the days of old, before technology advanced.  
  
Magic. A thousand spells spilling in hatred and anger.  
  
Screams. The voices of the damned and the helpless mingle into a single, bone-chilling cry.  
  
Blood. So much blood. On the ground, on clothes, on hands, on swords.  
  
Fear.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin started into wakefulness as the tune he had set as his ringtone seemed to blast throughout the room. He stared at the device vibrating on his bedside table in confusion as his sluggish mind struggled to catch up with him. As the phone sang out again, Merlin reached out for it, missing his target a few times before he managed to grab it and read the caller ID.  
  
It was Morgana.  
  
"Morgana? It's the middle of the night…" he slurred, as he pressed the phone against his ear. "What is it?"  
  
" _I'm sorry, Merlin, but I didn't know what to do. I had to talk to you._ " Merlin could hear her breathing heavily, her tone heavily laced with hysteria. It reminded him of that time, a long, long time ago, when she had warned them against going out to fight the Questing Beast.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
" _I had a dream._ "  
  
Merlin sat bolt upright in his bed, the tendrils of sleep releasing their hold. "A dream? You mean like a dream of the future?"  
  
" _I think so… it was awful. There was so much blood and the screams and–_ "  
  
"Morgana," Merlin interrupted. "Take a deep breath and slow down." He waited for her to calm down before adding, "Now start from the beginning."  
  
Aithusa rolled over onto his legs, mumbling something unintelligible, but Merlin ignored her, his brow furrowing as Morgana described her dream. It was surprisingly vague, with no clear features or implications, but Merlin had learnt the hard way to ignore such things.  
  
"It's alright," Merlin consoled quietly after she had finished. "Thank you for calling me. Will you be okay to get back to sleep? I can get a sleeping draught to you if you need it."  
  
" _No, I'll be alright. I have some pills if I need them._ "  
  
"Okay. Try to get some rest. I'll see you at work at a more reasonable hour," he said lightly, trying to cheer her up a bit.  
  
" _Thank you, Merlin_."

 

* * *

 

 

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked as he took the spare seat at the table opposite Merlin, who was alternating between eating cereal and muttering spells under his breath while he held a thick-banded bracelet.  
  
"Morgana called in the middle of the night about a nightmare."  
  
"Like she used to have?" Arthur poured some cereal from the box into a bowl. He had quickly learned that, while Merlin would cook dinner and occasionally prepare lunch for him, anything else he would have to get himself. Personally, he thought it was ridiculous; he was a king after all!  
  
"Yeah. I thought I'd enchant a bracelet to suppress them like the one Morgause gave her."  
  
"I see. So I take it I'm going to have another boring day stuck here while you go out and read until sunset?"  
  
"Actually, no. Not today," Merlin put the bracelet down and smirked at him.  
  
Arthur paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, and narrowed his eyes. "Oh?"  
  
"Nope. I've got something planned for today. Be ready to leave in half an hour."  
  
"Half an hour?" That was another thing that Arthur was having trouble with. He was used to working with time in candle marks and the position of the sun. This newer, more accurate way was confusing.  
  
Merlin sighed and pointed at the clock on the wall. "The smaller hand," another sigh at the Once and Future King who was clearly not following. "Okay… the smaller stick marks the hour. At the moment, it's between the seven and the eight, which means it's in the seventh hour. Got it?"   
  
Arthur nodded.  
  
"The larger stick marks the minutes. There are sixty minutes in an hour, and each number represents an interval of five minutes. So half an hour is…" he left the sentence hanging, hoping Arthur would get the hint.  
  
"Thirty minutes."  
  
"Right." Merlin smiled. "So if the large stick has to get all the way around the clock for a full hour, it only has to go halfway for half an hour. Get it?"  
  
"I think so."  
  
"Good. Now you have less than thirty minutes to get ready, so get to it!"

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur groaned as the museum where Merlin worked came into view. "Really? This was your plan? To bore me somewhere else?"  
  
"Don't be such a prat," Merlin smirked. "I highly doubt you'll be bored."  
  
Arthur continued to question him, but Merlin ignored him, barely able to contain the grin that was trying to worm its way onto his face. Arthur was in for a surprise!  
  
"Good morning, you two."  
  
Merlin and Arthur turned to see Morgana walking up the steps behind them. There were small dark marks under her eyes but her tone was cheerful.  
  
"Morgana," Arthur acknowledged. He was still uncomfortable around her.  
  
"You look tired," Merlin noted. "Did you manage to get some sleep?"  
  
"A little, but it's alright," Morgana shrugged. "Are you excited, Arthur?" She smiled slyly, but not like the way she did centuries before; this had no malicious intent under the surface.  
  
"Excited for what?" Arthur frowned. Morgana turned to stare at Merlin.  
  
"You didn't tell him?"  
  
"No. I wanted it to be a surprise." Merlin reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out the bracelet he had been working on that morning. "Here, I've enchanted it to suppress your dreams. Wear it if you want to."  
  
Morgana's face was expressionless as she took the offered piece of jewellery and turned it over in her hands. She was silent for so long that Merlin thought she wasn't going to say anything but then he heard her murmur, "Thank you." She raised her eyes until she was looking directly at him. "This means a lot to me."  
  
"You're welcome. Now let's go kill some time."  
  
"What do you mean 'kill some time'?" Arthur grumbled as he followed the two of them into the building. He had never liked being kept out of the loop.

 

***

  
When lunch time finally rolled around, Merlin led Arthur to the entrance hall where they found Morgana already waiting for them.  
  
"You guys ready to go?" she asked, smirking as she looked over at the still clueless Arthur.  
  
"Yep, I just have to make the call," Merlin pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Arthur, you go on with Morgana and I'll catch up to you."  
  
"What?" Arthur frowned, obviously not liking this plan.  
  
"Oh, come on, Arthur," Morgana rolled her eyes. "I have no intention of running you through. We're just going down the road." She readjusted her bag. "Or are you _scared_?"  
  
"I am _not_ scared," Arthur huffed indignantly, leading the way out of the building. Despite all his talk, he still cast a nervous glance back at Merlin as the door shut behind him.  
  
True to her word, Morgana had not killed Arthur by the time Merlin arrived at the park that had been allocated as their meeting place.   
  
"So what are we doing here?" Arthur placed his hands on his hips as Merlin and Morgana settled under the shade of a large oak tree.  
  
"At the moment?" Merlin slapped the ground next to him, gesturing for him to sit down. "Waiting."  
  
Arthur sighed and sat heavily. "Waiting for what?"  
  
"You'll see," Morgana said knowingly.  
  
They didn't have to wait long. Within minutes, they watched a white hatchback pull up on the side of the road. Morgana quickly rose to her feet, wringing her hands nervously. Arthur sent her a searching look but she paid him no mind.  
  
The driver's and passenger's doors opened and out stepped none other than Gwen and Elyan. Merlin felt a smile tugging at his lips at the elated look on Arthur's face, which was mirrored by the two newcomers. Until they noticed Morgana.  
  
Hesitantly, Gwen and Elyan walked over to where they were waiting, a picnic basket and a folded blanket between them.  
  
Elyan looked very much like he missed being able to carry a sword and Gwen was biting her lip. They simultaneously turned to stare at Merlin, who forced himself to his feet.  
  
"Are we really going to have to go through this for _everyone_ we reintroduce you to?" Merlin asked Morgana.  
  
She heaved a sigh and shook her head. "It's alright. I want to." Taking a deep breath, she bowed to the siblings. "Gwen, Elyan, I am _so_ sorry for everything that has happened. In this life, I have been able to see how wrong my actions were and I would do anything to make it up to you."  
  
Neither of them said anything for a long moment, and Merlin was beginning to fear they wouldn't take it as well as the others had. But, then, Gwen placed the basket on the ground and rushed forward, pulling her ex-mistress into a deep embrace as tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
"I… I had always hoped that one day you would… and now you're…" Gwen was hardly able to make out a full sentence as Morgana recovered from her shock and returned the gesture.   
  
"I'm sorry, Gwen," Morgana whispered, her face hidden in her friend's neck. "I'm glad you were queen. You would have been so much better for the kingdom than anyone else."  
  
Seeing his sister's reaction, Elyan relaxed slightly and focused on the remaining two members of their party. Arthur gave an incredulous laugh, gripping the knight by the forearm and giving him a light slap on the back in a manly version of a hug.  
  
"Sire," Elyan nodded. "Merlin."  
  
Once released, Elyan copied the gesture with the raven-haired man.  
  
"Elyan," Merlin grinned. "It's been a long time."  
  
"So it has. How have you been?"  
  
"Not bad. I have magic, by the way." Because Elyan didn't know yet. And it was only fair to fill him in.  
  
The larger man froze. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
"It's true," Arthur broke in, patting Merlin on the back, just hard enough to make him stumble. "The whole time, in fact."  
  
"Don't be mad, Elyan," Gwen gripped her brother's arm, apparently having gotten over her reunion with Morgana. "He's saved us all more times than we can count."  
  
Elyan shook his head, a look of recognition forming on his face as he put the pieces together. "Well, I guess if these guys can trust you, I have no reason not to."  
  
Merlin smiled in relief and then set about helping Gwen set up the blanket and pull out the food she had packed.  
  
"They’re late," Morgana looked down at her watch once they had all made themselves comfortable.  
  
"Don't worry, they'll be here. I made sure I sounded desperate enough to get _Officer Stiles_ here," Merlin said, a silent conversation passing between them. "And _Mr. Dykes_ wouldn't miss this for the world."  
  
Morgana laughed at the very confused looks the two of them were receiving.  
  
"What are you two planning?" Gwen narrowed her eyes. "Who are Officer Stiles and Mr. Dykes?"  
  
"Well, here comes Mr. Dykes," Merlin nodded towards the entrance of the park. All eyes turned to the direction he had gestured and several mouths fell open at the sight of the large man walking towards them.  
  
"Is that…?" Arthur gaped.  
  
"I told you, it's Mr. Dykes."  
  
Arthur punched his shoulder before hurriedly getting to his feet, Gwen and Elyan hot on his tail. One emotional reunion later, and they were all seated once more.  
  
"Can we start now or are we expecting others?" Elyan raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Don't forget about Officer Stiles," Morgana said with feigned shock.  
  
"No, I think you've got that backwards," Merlin corrected.  
  
"What, he still doesn't know?"  
  
"Not yet. But this was your idea, remember?"  
  
"True. He's going to be so mad at you, though; making him take time out of his important schedule on a wild goose chase."  
  
"Hey, I told him I had information. I just didn't say what the information was relevant to."  
  
"What _are_ you two going on about?" Arthur crossed his arms, apparently unimpressed. "Merlin, no more secrets."  
  
"It's not a secret. I told you about the investigation and we just mentioned Officer Stiles," Merlin huffed indignantly. Arthur did not look amused.  
  
A police car pulled up just behind Gwen's car and all eyes focused on it.  
  
"I think I should go explain," Merlin ran a hand through his hair as a very annoyed police officer stepped out of the car and frowned at him. He waved as he headed over to the man, calling, "Hi, Leon!"


	12. Chapter 12

"Melvin, what's going on? You said you had information about the break-in," Leon frowned as he met Merlin halfway.  
  
"Yeah… I may or may not have been entirely truthful about that," Merlin shrugged sheepishly. "But I couldn't think of another way to get you to come!"  
  
"You know this is serious, right? And lying to an officer is an offense. You shouldn't take something like this so lightly. The perpetrators may not have taken anything but that doesn't make the situation any less serious."  
  
"I used to lie to the king and the worst I got was the stocks. Trust me, I probably know better than anyone the seriousness of a seemingly insignificant event. But I think it's time to put it all aside for a few hours at least. Your life will be miserable if you only focus on the negative and don't take any time to relax and enjoy yourself."  
  
Leon was looking at him with an indecipherable look. It was probably the comment about the king that had done it, but Merlin was hoping little hints would help jog the First Knight's memories.  
  
"Melvin…"  
  
"No, that's not my name, and somewhere, deep down, you know it."  
  
Leon's expression was leaning more towards disbelief.  
  
"Come on, Leon. You know who I am." Merlin looked over his shoulder at his friends watching them impatiently. "And you know who they are. And you know you want to stay and have lunch with us; it's been 1500 years, after all."  
  
Leon's face became unreadable once more and he took a small step back. If Merlin didn’t know better, he would think the man was preparing to get as far away from him as possible. If it was anyone else, they would have thought him mad.  
  
"No, sorry, I have work to do," Leon said hesitantly, turning and distractedly walking back towards his car.  
  
"Sir Leon."  
  
Leon stopped dead in his tracks.   
  
"First Knight of Camelot under the reign of King Arthur. One of the members of the Round Table. We went on a lot of quests together. Despite being only a servant, you and the other knights were all my friends. Raids, the Dorocha, various attacks from magical creatures, vengeful sorcerers and Morgana. We were by Arthur's side as he became king. We were by his side when Uther died. We stood proud beside him right until the end – at Camlan. And even after that. We stayed by Gwen as she ruled as the sole monarch. I was by your side when you took your dying breaths. I know you remember me, Leon. You wouldn't have come to find me that day if you didn't."   
  
Slowly, Leon turned and stared Merlin in the eye, his face easily giving away the mixture of emotions assaulting him. Sadness, hope, recognition, joy…  
  
"…Merlin?"  
  
Merlin smiled his signature grin and that was all the confirmation the knight needed. The next thing he knew, Leon had closed the distance between them and had pulled him into an embrace. Merlin stood rooted in shock momentarily. Leon had never really been one to hug; especially him. He was always so serious and dutiful.   
  
"So they weren't just dreams…"  
  
"No, they weren't," Merlin chuckled. "Now, there are some people over there who are dying to see you."  
  
Leon allowed Merlin to lead him over to the group of people seated on the picnic rug. He had barely managed to get a word out before he was practically swamped by people. Merlin couldn't help but laugh as poor Sir Leon was fussed over, forced to sit down, and was handed a plate, which signalled that they were _finally_ allowed to eat.  
  
They weren't all reunited – there were still some missing; Gwaine, Lancelot, Gaius – but it was a start, and a promise that they would all, eventually, be able to sit together like this and just enjoy each other's company without worrying about threats and battles.

 

* * *

 

 

Morgana was in a good mood, humming to herself as she walked up the path to her townhouse. The day had been a big success; she had been able to spend time with the people from her old life that had been found – excluding the dragons, though she would have loved for them to be there – and had been given the chance to apologise to those she had yet to talk to. They had been nervous around her at first; giving her sideways glances as though preparing to detain her should she suddenly turn out to be evil.   
  
She didn't care how long it took; she would make it up to them. She wasn't who she used to be.  
  
She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her as she unlocked her front door. There, sitting on the lower steps of the staircase, was Morgause.  
  
Morgana gasped, eyes widening, and quickly slammed the door shut once more. She stood there, on the doorstep, for a moment, before rapidly backpedalling until she was standing by the road, breaking into an all-out sprint in the museum's general direction.  
  
What was Morgause doing there? In her house, no less! In the past, Morgause had convinced her to turn against the people she cared about; she could not – would not – let that happen again.   
  
She needed to get to Merlin.  
  
Whipping out her mobile, Morgana pressed Merlin's assigned speed dial and held the phone to her ear, begging in an undertone for him to pick up.  
  
" _Morgana? What's up?_ "  
  
"Merlin, thank goodness!" her voice shook. "I-it's Morgause! She was there! She–"  
  
" _Morgana, stop. Morgause? What about her?_ "  
  
"Merlin, she… she was there; in my house! I think she was waiting for me!"  
  
The line as quiet for so long, Morgana wondered if maybe the connection had been lost. "Merlin?"  
  
"Sister!"  
  
Morgana stood stock-still, her whole body tense. She would recognise that voice anywhere, and it was the last one she wanted to hear. Very slowly, keeping the phone to her ear in case the connection somehow recovered, she turned on the spot to face a somewhat flustered looking Morgause.  
  
"I'm sorry for frightening you," Morgause said apologetically, taking a step forwards.  
  
Morgana instinctively took one back.  
  
The blonde frowned, taking in her sister's almost hysterical appearance. "Do you not remember me?" she asked slowly, as if only just realising that waiting for someone in their house who doesn't know you is not exactly a good idea.  
  
Morgana stared for a moment, not sure how to answer. Either way, she knew Morgause would want to pick up where they left off, unless she too had seen the error of her ways. Maybe she could convince the witch that they were wrong…  
  
"Morgause," she spoke in a whisper.  
  
Morgause broke into a beaming smile. "How I have missed you, sister," she said, moving forwards with outstretched arms.  
  
Morgana didn't move and Morgause quickly let her arms dropped to her sides.  
  
"Is everything alright?" she asked in concern.  
  
Oh, how Morgana had missed that unconditional love Morgause had shown her. But, regardless of how much she loved the blonde, she couldn't hurt them again, not after they had shown they were willing to move on.  
  
"Where do you stand?" Morgana wiped away the tears that had formed in her eyes.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Morissa!"   
  
Morgana slowly turned towards the source of the whisper-shouting of her new name to see Merlin hiding in the crevice between two buildings. How had he gotten there so fast? She lowered her phone and pressed the end-call button before slipping it into her pocket.  
  
"What do you mean?" Morgause didn't seem to have noticed the warlock.  
  
Merlin peered around the corner, taking a quick look at the blonde before ducking back out of sight.  
  
"Morgana?"  
  
She realised she had been taking too long to answer and quickly looked back at Morgause. "I'm sorry, what?"  
  
"I didn't understand what you were asking. What do you mean, 'where do I stand'?"  
  
"Morissa! There you are!"   
  
Both women turned to see a young blonde man hurrying towards them. Morgana's brow furrowed in confusion. She had no idea who this man was, but he apparently knew her. He stopped a few paces from her and rested his hands on his knees while he fought to catch his breath.  
  
"I've been trying to call you but the line wouldn't connect," the newcomer explained, standing up to his full height. "Peter wants you to cover Marg's shift." He shifted his attention to Morgause, an apologetic smile gracing his lips. "Sorry, you don't mind if I borrow her for a bit, do you?"  
  
"Actually, I–"  
  
"Great," the man cut Morgause off and grabbed Morgana by the arm, starting to pull her down the street. "Come on, before Pete loses his head!"  
  
Morgana allowed herself to be towed away, grateful for the save, even if she had no idea who her saviour was. The man kept glancing over his shoulder, as if making sure Morgause wasn't following. After they turned down the fifth corner and into a secluded alley – at which point Morgana was beginning to get _very_ worried – he stopped and released her, staring her straight in the eye.  
  
"Sorry, are you okay?"  
  
"I… who are you?" Morgana managed.  
  
The man looked quizzical, as if she had just asked a stupid question, before his eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, here," he chuckled. " _Edcierrætmínsóþfæsthíw_."  
  
She could only watch with a mixture of awe and disbelief as the blonde man before her began to change, practically melting until, before her, stood Merlin. She stared dumbstruck for a moment before breaking out into laughter.   
  
"I should have known!" she composed herself.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Merlin."  
  
"You said she was waiting for you?"  
  
"She was on my stairs when I walked inside… I don't know how she found me, but I have no intentions of helping her if she wishes to finish what we started. Please believe me!"  
  
"I do," Merlin gave a small smile. "But for now I think it's best if you don't go anywhere alone, and I don't think it would be a good idea to go back to your house."  
  
"She found me once, so she will probably find me again, no matter where I go."  
  
"I'll give Gwen a call and see if she'll let you stay with her," Merlin pulled his phone out of his pocket.  
  
"No, I don't want to endanger her like that," Morgana protested.  
  
Merlin paused, his thumb hovering over the call button. "She's involved in this whether you like it or not. Just being from the past like us, and being the Queen, no less, puts her at huge risk. I'll put some enchantments on her house to help protect it."  
 

* * *

 

 

Lance looked up from the file he had been reading as the Chief entered his office. The Chief, a large man with a mop of tussled black hair, spared him a brief smile and a nod before getting straight into business.  
  
"Officer Nolan, I've got a case for you."  
  
Lance sat up a little straighter in his chair, giving his boss his full attention.  
  
"You may already be aware of the reported break-in in the museum's medieval artefact section. I've just gotten off the phone with the curator who has reported the archive section has showed signs of a break-in."  
  
"I thought that case was being handled by the police," Lance frowned.  
  
"It is, but they haven't seemed to be having much luck. I have spoken with the officer in charge and he agrees that one of our agents would be beneficial."  
  
"Right, then. When do I start?"   
  
"Nine a.m. tomorrow morning."

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin had not been expecting his department to be closed off by police tape when he arrived at work the next morning. Nor had he been expecting the sight of hundreds of old books and documents littering the floor as if the whole room had been the victim of an indoor tornado. If he hadn't been so shocked, he might have been angry that someone had treated the old documents so poorly.  
  
It didn't take him long to spot Leon amongst the officers and forensic investigators.  
  
"Does this mean I get the day off?" he asked as Leon walked over to him.  
  
"Unfortunately not, they're going to want to ask you some questions," Leon said apologetically.  
  
"Of course," Merlin sighed. "So who will be my interrogator?"  
  
"That would be me."   
  
Merlin and Leon turned to look behind them, easily identifying the voice that had spoken.  
  
"Lancelot?!"


	13. Chapter 13

The man that could only be the reincarnation of Lancelot raised an eyebrow in apparent confusion. "I am Agent Lance Nolan," he introduced, holding his hand out for Merlin to shake. "I work for an organization separate from the police called the Juxtor Investigation Bureau."  
  
Merlin returned the gesture. "I'm Melvin Emery, head of the department."  
  
"Officer Leon Stiles," Leon shook Lance's hand also, sharing a look with Merlin.  
  
"Mr Emery, do you mind if I borrow some of your time?" Lance asked.  
  
"Sure, I don't see a problem," Merlin shrugged casually, but inside was a different matter.   
  
Even without the sudden appearance of Lancelot, he had a lot on his mind. First the Medieval Section, and now the archives? Someone was definitely looking for something. His mind went back to Morgause. Could it be her? But what was she looking for? Maybe it was time he started doing a little digging of his own.

 

 

When she’d gotten a call asking if Morgana could stay with her, Gwen had been apprehensive to say the least. But then Morgana had shown up on her doorstep, clearly distressed, and Gwen found she couldn’t turn a blind eye, even if she wanted to.  
  
“Merlin said he’ll come by after work,” Morgana explained, accepting the mug of tea the ex-Queen offered her. “He wants to put up some wards.”  
  
“Won’t they miss you at work?” Gwen asked, taking a seat in the adjacent armchair.  
  
“I’m taking a sick day.” She looked down at the steaming beverage in her hands. “I’m sorry for asking you to do this, Gwen.”  
  
Gwen put her own mug down on the coffee table and placed a hand on Morgana’s knee. “It’s alright, you don’t have to apologise. It’ll be like old times.” She was silent for a moment, a small frown on her face. “Well, I mean, old times before you… not that you… you know, how it was in the beginning…”  
  
Morgana felt a smile tugging at her lips as she watched her flustered friend try to correct herself. “I know what you mean,” she spared the poor woman from further elaboration.  
  
Gwen hid her blushing face by taking a sip of her drink. “I really missed you, you know.”  
  
“I missed you, too. I’m sorry things turned out the way they did.”  
  
“Well, now we have plenty of time for a fresh start.”

 

 

The questions ‘Lance’ had asked him had been very standard – ‘ _can you think of anything in the section that is particularly valuable or that someone might want to steal?’ ‘Who have you seen entering the section recently?’ ‘Where were you last night?’_ and so on – and while some of the questions had hinted that Merlin was a suspect, he could tell from the man’s tone that he didn’t think that way. Unfortunately, Lance didn’t seem to recognize him, nor did he give any indication that he remembered his past life.  
  
Merlin briefly wondered if he had come off as slightly creepy, what with his beaming smile, but he couldn’t help it. It had been a long time since he’d seen (the real) Lancelot – and in the past he had been one of the few who knew about his magic. And he’d been a close friend. He couldn’t help it if he couldn’t control his unbridled joy at seeing the man alive – even if said man didn’t know who he was.  
  
It was with a contented smile that he magicked open the door to his house and stepped inside. Aithusa was the first to greet him, happily bounding around his legs. Kilgharrah merely nodded in acknowledgement from his place on the couch. And Arthur, of course, was bored.  
  
“Hey guys,” Merlin smiled, putting his bag down on the table. “Arthur didn’t bore you to death, did he?” he smirked, glancing sidelong at the Once and Future King.  
  
“No, but he complains a lot,” Aithusa hummed.  
  
“In my defence, there isn’t really much for me to do,” Arthur huffed.  
  
“Well, that’s all over for today. Come on, we’ve got work to do,” Merlin announced, kneeling down in front of Aithusa and placing a hand on her head, his eyes glowing gold.  
  
“Where are we going?” Arthur asked, watching as Kilgharrah sighed and slunk his way over to his Dragonlord.   
  
“Gwen’s.”  
  
The effect was instantaneous. Arthur immediately perked up, even going so far as to hurry out the door ahead of them.

 

 

***

 

The door opened only moments after Merlin had knocked, a beaming Gwen standing on the threshold. Merlin smiled to himself, sidestepping his way into the house while the ex-king and queen had their more intimate greeting, Kilgharrah and Aithusa by his side (the white dog-dragon had wanted to stay and be loved by Gwen, but Merlin had pulled her away).   
  
Morgana was seated on the couch, her body turned to she had a clear view of the doorway.   
  
“How are you doing?” Merlin asked.  
  
“I’m much better now,” Morgana replied truthfully.  
  
Aithusa lingered awkwardly beside her Lord, obviously torn between staying with him or going over to the woman she had cared for so long ago. Merlin couldn’t help the sad smile that graced him as he watched her. A gentle nudge with his foot was all it took to set her off in Morgana’s direction, much to the seer’s delight.  
  
“Hello, Aithusa,” Morgana said lovingly, showing none of the hurt she was undoubtedly feeling when Aithusa stopped a few feet from her.   
  
“My Lady,” Aithusa bowed.  
  
Merlin rolled his eyes. “She hasn’t got the plague, you know,” he said exasperatedly.  
  
Aithusa turned to look at him, her face unreadable. Ever so slowly, she returned her attention back to Morgana and moved forwards until she was sitting at the woman’s feet. Morgana leaned down, stroking the soft white fur lovingly.   
  
Kilgharrah huffed in obvious disapproval – but, then, he had never really been one for affection.   
  
“Naw, are you jealous, grumpy?” Merlin teased. He crouched down to the Great Dragon’s height and ruffled him behind the ears. “Would it make you feel better if I gave you a scratch?”  
  
Kilgharrah snapped at him, though not with the intention to bite (although that’s certainly not how it appeared), sending Merlin a death glare.  
  
“Despite appearances, Merlin, I am _not_ a dog.”  
  
“You don’t need to be a dog to want someone to care about you,” Merlin said, the jovial in his tone all but gone. But then he sighed, a half smile returning. “Do you want me to remove the enchantment? Or I could turn you into something else… how about a _horse_?” He couldn’t help that one jibe. Apparently Kilgharrah didn’t share in his humour, if the scowl was anything to go by.  
  
“Can I get any of you anything?” Gwen asked as she and Arthur entered the living room, their hands intertwined.  
  
“I’m fine, thank you. But Kilgharrah could use a sense of humour.”  
  
Gwen frowned, not understanding. Arthur smiled, though.  
  
The Great Dragon grumbled something under his breath, walking over to the empty fire place and settling down in front of it.  
  
“Morgana tells me you want to set up some enchantments?” Gwen prompted.  
  
“Yes, just a few protection spells – just in case. If that’s alright, of course.”  
  
“It’s fine. Did you need any help?”  
  
“Nah, it shouldn’t take too long,” and with that, the warlock headed back towards the front door to make a start.  
  
“Kilgharrah and Aithusa,” Gwen began, gathering the two dragons’ attention. “Did either of you want anything? I can get you some water, or I might have some meat…”  
  
“That’s quite alright, Guinevere,” Kilgharrah declined. Aithusa likewise shook her head.  
  
Left with nothing better to do, Gwen took a seat beside Morgana, Arthur quickly following suit.   
  
True to his word, Merlin return within minutes, and smiled to see them all sitting peacefully together – no one holding anyone at sword point, or threatening to take over somebody else’s kingdom.   
  
“Gwen,” he began, gathering the ex-queen’s attention. “Do you have anything personal that you wear every day? Like a piece of jewellery or something?”  
  
Gwen ‘hmm’ed before reaching up and unfastening a necklace from around her neck. “Will this do?”  
  
“It’s perfect,” Merlin assured, taking the offered chain. Holding it in one hand, he held the other over the top of it and concentrated on the magic, pulling it up to the surface. “ _Ámundae_ _in hrine._ ”  
  
With a satisfied smile, Merlin returned the necklace. “Right then, that’s that done. I’ve put up protective barriers on the house and, as long as you’re wearing that,” he indicated to the necklace, “You should be safe from magical attacks.”  
  
“Thank you, Merlin,” Gwen exchanged a look with Morgana, putting the piece of jewellery back on. The seer appeared likewise at ease.   
  
Merlin had explained the Morgause-situation to Arthur on the way over, and he had reacted exactly how Merlin had expected him to – not well. The man had seemed to experience a mixture of fear, hatred and anger; especially at the thought of Gwen being in danger. But Merlin had reassured him that as long as he put up some wards, no harm would come to Gwen.  
  
He hadn’t, however, told them about Lancelot. Leon had contacted Percival and Elyan, and Merlin had been left to tell the others.  
  
“You’re off work early,” Morgana noted, a small frown adorning her face, as though she’d only just realised.  
  
This was the perfect opportunity to bring the day’s events up. “Yeah, the archive department was broken into last night.” Every occupant of the room stiffened. “As far as we can tell, nothing has been taken – much like what happened with the medieval section,” he looked pointedly at Morgana, who nodded. “And then, also like the medieval section, Leon and I happened to meet someone important.”  
  
Morgana was the first to catch on, sitting forward in her seat in anticipation. “Who was it?!”  
  
“Lancelot.”  
  
Mixed reactions. Merlin had expected it. Morgana initially winced – likely a result of remembering all the horrible things she had done involving the knight – but then her expression slowly settled to a contented smile; she was getting the chance to apologise. Gwen was happy, although she was no doubt hiding the darker emotions – she had been the one to ask Lancelot to protect Arthur – inevitably leading to his death, and she had also been banished because of him. Regardless of the fact that he was a shade at the time and she had been enchanted, it had happened. Arthur’s reaction was considerably like Gwen’s, although alongside the happiness was something akin to jealousy or protectiveness. He was well aware of the tension between his queen and the knight, but Lancelot had been a good friend to him, and one of his best knights.   
  
Merlin glanced over to his two other companions. Aithusa had never met Lancelot, so her face was naturally blank, a hint of confusion visible in the slight tilt of her head. But she seemed to pick up on the overall mood, the slight twitching of her tail testament to her excitement of meeting someone from the old time. Kilgharrah, on the other hand, seemed pleased from where he was sulking by the fire place. The two had met, not long before the knight had sacrificed himself, and the Great Dragon had seemed to like the man then. And it would seem that remained true.  
  
“He works for an organization called the Juxtor Investigation Bureau; they’re helping the police on the case. He asked me a few questions, but it doesn’t look like he remembers anything.”  
  
That dampened the mood a bit, but not by much.  
  
“Well, I didn’t remember straight away,” Gwen supplied. “It was only after I saw you two at the café that time that I started remembering. I didn’t even know they were memories at first. Maybe now that he’s seen you and Leon, it’ll jog his memories?”  
  
“Let’s hope,” Morgana leant back against the cushions.  
  


 

As he had expected, the archive section was still taped off the next day. There were still a few officers and forensics personnel around, doing what they could to gather any evidence the culprit had left behind. Merlin bit back a sigh. With all of them still hanging around, it was going to be hard to carry out his own investigation.   
  
Turning on his heel, Merlin began the trek to the medieval section. The section was still not open to public, but there were currently no people in authority hanging around. All he had to do was watch out for security cameras and ensure that he didn’t accidentally leave anything behind that would incriminate him.  
  
“ _Áhellest_ _mec fram_ _bescéawodnesse_ _._ _Læfe_ _náht_ _spor,_ ” he murmured, shutting his eyes slightly to hide the golden glow of his magic. When he was sure that he would remain undetected, Merlin cautiously stepped over the police tape and entered the medieval section.  
  
The section looked as though nothing had changed – it was exactly the same as it always had been. The cabinet door that had been open – the only sign that had been left to signify that the place had been broken into – was now shut, the goblets and various pieces of crockery it contained untouched.  
  
There had to be more to it. Why would someone break in but not take anything? And then, assuming they were the same person, why break into the archive section? While there were some documents in the archives contemporary to the medieval artefacts, they were very different areas. What was the connection? What was the culprit looking for?  
  
Merlin allowed his magic to fill the space around him. If the person responsible had used magic, he would be able to detect traces of it. It would be a start at the very least.  
  
He could feel his magic groping around the room, wrapping itself around objects and spaces, enveloping everything it came into contact with.   
  
There!  
  
Merlin turned his head to where he had felt the slight shift; an almost unnoticeable resistance to his magic. The cabinet door. That would explain why there had been no damage to the lock or glass, and why the alarm hadn’t gone off.   
  
But whose magic was it? Merlin’s mind instantly jumped to Morgause, but he refused to allow himself to come to any final conclusions until he was certain. She might not be the only one of his enemies to return. Perhaps he could trace the magic back to its owner… It was worth a try.  
  
Closing his eyes, Merlin fished around in his mental library for a spell that would work. “ _Læde_ _se_ _færeld_ _be se_ _ordfruma_.”  
  
Upon opening his eyes, the warlock noted the golden stream leading around him and back out to the main hall of the museum. Hoping he was the only one who could see the glow, he followed after it. Standing in the entranceway, he noted how the lightened path was fractured in places, practically gone towards the doors before fading completely.   
  
Merlin huffed in annoyance. That would be a problem. However, a second glow caught his attention, leading into the building and heading down a completely different hallway. He had a feeling he knew exactly where it was going to lead, but followed nonetheless.   
  
As he had predicted, the trail glowed merrily past the police tape and wound its way between the shelves of the archive section. The cloaking spell was still active, so he stepped over the tape barring the way without a care. He was good at sneaking around.  
  
Being careful not to bump into anyone or anything, Merlin walked alongside the golden stream, his dread growing stronger with every step, until at last both he and his guide came to a stop.  
  
In all honesty, he really should have expected it. And yet, there he was, standing wide eyed as though someone had slapped him in the face.   
  
Of course the magic-using culprit would go for this exact spot. What other reasonable explanation was there? And yet the question still remained: why?  
  
Merlin had gone over the documents and books for the Arthurian Legends countless times. He quickly scanned the titles, mentally cataloguing them as he went. Again, something he should have expected but didn’t. He had taken the officers’ word for it and shrugged it off. He was getting slack.  
  
One of the documents was missing.   
  
Well, technically it was a book. A book that wasn’t contemporary to Camelot and Arthur. But nevertheless it contained information on various religious artefacts, and other important objects. If he remembered correctly, Excalibur was mentioned in it once or twice. But the culprit couldn’t have been after the sword. The book that had been taken was hardly a rich source; there was a whole document just a few spaces further down that was much more likely to be of use to someone searching for the sword. His mind drifted back to the cabinet.   


With dawning realisation, Merlin’s heart and mind froze, a tremor of dread tingling down his spine. He desperately hoped the conclusion he had come to was wrong. And even more so he hoped whoever the culprit was never found what they were looking for.  
  
The Cup of Life.


	14. Chapter 14

Morgause struggled to contain the cry of rage that threatened to escape her. She had been overjoyed to see her sister again, and even more so when Morgana had called her by name. But that question… what had she meant by ‘where do you stand’?   
  
And then that no-name _intruder_ had the nerve to interrupt, to cut their reunion short. And now, even with Nimueh’s help, they could no longer discern Morgana’s location.   
  
“What’s stopping you?!” Morgause tried to rein in her temper; it would do no good to anger the High Priestess. Morgana was not a key part of their plan, and it was only out of Nimueh’s good will that they were even attempting to join sides with the rightful queen of Camelot.   
  
“There are powerful wards blocking me,” Nimueh sounded as though she was feeling much the same. “There is only one whom I know of that could cast such a spell…”  
  
“Merlin.”  
  
“Indeed. It would seem Morgana is in contact with him, and not the kind we would have hoped for.”  
  
Morgause narrowed her eyes. That _servant_ had corrupted her sister. Well no matter. “Then we’ll have to correct this.”  
  
“What did you have in mind?”  
  
“I think it’s about time I paid our favourite warlock a visit.”

 

 

 

“I have some information.”  
  
Lance looked up from the report he was reading to find Melvin Emery standing before him. The man seemed somewhat hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure if he should be giving away what he knew. But Lance could easily see the undying trust Melvin held in his eyes.  
  
Putting down the report, he gave the man his full attention. “Yes?”  
  
“I… was going through the archives,” Lance opened his mouth to interrupt, but Melvin quickly continued. “I _know_ , I’m not supposed to go in there while you guys are carrying out your investigation, but if I didn’t, I would never have noticed that one of the books is missing.”  
  
Lance frowned. “Which one?”  
  
“It’s a book about specific powerful artefacts from Arthurian times.”  
  
“The other break in was in the medieval section,” Lance murmured to himself. “It’s likely that this is linked with that. Can you think of anything about that book, or artefacts that may be a cause for robbery?”  
  
Melvin fidgeted, his eyes downcast.  
  
“You can tell me, I’m one of the good guys. All I want to do is help solve this case.”  
  
“I know,” Melvin said quickly, not a hint of doubt in his countenance. “I know… it’s just… Do you believe in the Arthurian Legends?”  
  
The question caught him off guard. Of all things, he certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Why?”  
  
“Think about it now.”  
  
Lance wanted to protest, but there was something desperate in the way Melvin had asked, like he was trying to convince himself that coming to Lance was the right thing to have done.   
  
So Lance stopped and thought about it. He would be lying if he said that such stories hadn’t fascinated him as a kid. He’d always loved hearing about knights in shining armour saving damsels in distress. The valour of knights and their desire to protect had been what had initially caused him to aspire to be an officer; that need to protect people and the land of his birth was overwhelming. But as for the legends themselves, he’d always simply thought of them as stories… hadn’t he? There was a lot of controversy surrounding them; about whether they were real or just fables told and passed down through the centuries. There wasn’t much evidence to suggest them as fact, but…  
  
“Well, I suppose it’s possible; it would be nice if it were true. But it’s something that has always come off as just a story.”  
  
That didn’t appear to be the answer Melvin was looking for. His shoulders slumped almost unnoticeably, and the edge of his mouth twitched downward. Nevertheless, he answered the officer’s earlier question. “There are a lot of objects described in the book that are mentioned in Arthurian legends or are thought to be contemporary to that time. Many of them are powerful, especially if they were to fall into the wrong hands…”  
  
He trailed off, but Lance couldn’t help but feel like there was something more the man wanted to say. “Powerful how?”  
  
“Do you believe in magic?”  
  
Another unexpected question, but perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Magic was a considerably big part of Arthurian legend – especially in mention of Merlin. Was Melvin insinuating that magic was a key factor in this case?   
  
“You’re not suggesting–”  
  
“The Cup of Life.” At Lance’s confused expression, he elaborated, “That’s what I believe whoever has done this is after. The Cup of Life.”

 

 

To be honest, Merlin wasn’t really sure why he had told Lancelot about what he had discovered. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t find Leon, and ‘Lance’ was the next best option. Or maybe it was a strong desire to believe that Lancelot was somewhere in there, just under the surface. That maybe mentioning things from the past might make the man remember. Or maybe he just wanted _so badly_ for that figure of trust; the man who had discovered his secret and still kept it. The man who had refused to take credit, despite his own involvement.   
  
But it would seem that Lancelot would remain buried. For now, at least.  
  
It was clear that Lance wasn’t aware of the Cup of Life’s capabilities. And that was probably for the best. Merlin refused to involve the man until his memory returned; and even then he would have preferred him to stay out of harm’s way. He was even starting to regret telling him of his conclusion in the first place. But he had hoped…  
  
Of course, not long after he had found Leon and relayed the news (who took it with a much more appropriate level of horror). The others would have to wait until either of them saw them; Merlin wasn’t sure how secure the phone lines were.  
  
He was still trying to figure out whose magic it was he had located. It was familiar, but that certainly didn’t narrow it down.   
  
It was days like these that he wished he had a car; sitting on a bus gave him far too much time to think. All he wanted to do right then was go home and try to decipher one of Kilgharrah’s riddles, or listen to Arthur prattle on. But he had to check. He had to make sure. His three housemates had spent the day with Morgana and Gwen, so they wouldn’t mind waiting a little while longer, for sure. With modern transportation, the journey that used to take him a few days on horseback now only took a few hours – that was one thing he loved about the new age.  
  
To the untrained eye, it would look little more than a small isle covered in a thick blanket of fog sitting in the centre of a glass-top lake. None that he knew of had ventured out to it, but perhaps that was just part of its mystical charm. But as Merlin stepped out of the small wooden boat (which he was pretty sure hadn’t changed for centuries, but that was magic for you) and onto the stone walkway, he found he liked it that way. This place was never meant to be destroyed by men.  
  
The Isle of the Blessed was exactly as he remembered it.   
  
Walking through the gloomy, crumbling halls, Merlin couldn’t help but imagine what the castle would have looked like in its prime; with bustling people and the humming of magic in the air (not that it didn’t now, but it was different). A roar-like screech pulled him out of his musings and he looked up to see a small flock of wyverns heading towards him. A small smile graced his lips – they weren’t dragons, but they were close relatives, and he couldn’t help but be glad they had survived after all this time.  
  
But it would probably be a good idea to not get eaten.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Merlin raised his head towards the creatures and yelled, “Anapauō! Metalōpheō humos enseismos.”  
  
The wyverns stopped midflight, before slowly descending to the ground. They were obviously still annoyed at the intruder, but made no move to attack. Satisfied, Merlin turned and continued navigating his way through the ruins, vaguely aware of one or two of the wyverns hesitantly following after him.   
  
Much like the rest of the isle, the courtyard remained unchanged, right down to the length of the grass – all except for one small dead patch where he had struck down Nimueh. The stone slab stuck ominously out in the centre; this was where Gaius had almost died, and where Lancelot had*. An involuntary shiver went down his spine but he forced himself to keep moving.  
  
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find; surely this would be the first place anyone with any sense would search for the Cup, and given the break-ins, it could be assumed that it wasn’t here. Yet Merlin had come anyway. He could feel the magic of the place resonating with his own, making him feel many times more powerful; a rather frightening thought.  
  
As he had predicted, the Cup was nowhere to be seen. Whatever had happened to it after Morgana’s immortal army, it hadn’t ended up back here. He was kicking himself for not having done anything about it after the battle; it was a dangerously powerful object, especially in the wrong hands.  
  
Merlin sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, and headed back towards the boat. As much as he would have loved to stay in the heart of the Old Religion, it was gloomy and held only bad memories for him. He had more important things to deal with, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur struggled to maintain a stoic expression when Merlin turned up at Gwen’s house that afternoon. He couldn’t let the idiot know he’d missed him. As much as he loved Gwen and Morgana (Gwen in particular – and he was still iffy about his half-sister), their girly tendencies were starting to drive him insane. How was it possible to talk about interior decorating for _two whole hours?_ The only one who agreed with him on the situation was Kilgharrah (Aithusa didn’t seem to mind, quite happy just being in the presence of the two women). But then, Kilgharrah wasn’t much of a conversationalist.   
  
So Merlin’s return was a blessing.   
  
But upon seeing the smile on his servants face, Arthur found his brow furrowing. He had made it his duty to pay more attention to the warlock – he needed to make sure the idiot didn’t continue hiding things – and had learned enough to be able to tell when the smile was fake. Apparently he wasn’t the only one.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Gwen asked.  
  
The smile slipped as Merlin discovered he’d been found out. With a sigh, he plonked himself down heavily on the couch, leaning his head back against the back rest. There was silence for a full minute.  
  
“Are you going to tell us?” Arthur found himself asking.  
  
“… I may have figured some stuff out that doesn’t spell out good things for us.”  
  
“And that would be…?” Morgana prompted.  
  
“Whoever broke into the museum is like us; they’re from the past. Magic was used in both cases, and one of the books from the archives is missing.”  
  
Gwen bit her lip. “Do you think it could have been Morgause?”  
  
“But what would she be after?” Arthur countered.  
  
“I may have also figured that part out, too…”  
  
All eyes returned to Merlin.  
  
“… I think, whoever is doing this, they’re after the Cup of Life.”  
  
There was a collection of gasps across the room; they all knew what the Cup was capable of.   
  
“What even happened to it after we stopped the immortal army?” Arthur asked, ignoring Morgana’s wince.  
  
“To be honest, I don’t know,” Merlin raised his head. “I went back to the Isle of the Blessed, but it wasn’t there.”  
  
“When I fled with Morgause, I didn’t take it with me,” Morgana added quietly.  
  
“Could it still be buried in the citadel?” Gwen absently stroked Aithusa’s neck.  
  
“No,” Merlin sighed again. “I would have been able to sense it; it’s an object of powerful magic. Something like that wouldn’t remain unnoticed.”  
  
“Then let’s hope we find it before the witch,” Kilgharrah supplied, getting to his feet. “If it were to fall into her hands, the consequences would be dire.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The Isle of the Blessed changes a lot throughout the show, so I’m kind of incorporating it all into one; it’s big like it was in season 4, and there are wyverns, but I’ve also kept the courtyard grassy like in season 1.


	15. Chapter 15

“I’m sorry, you can’t come in here.”  
  
The brunette stopped and turned to him, his face expressionless. “I was looking for someone.”  
  
Lance forced a smile on his face – something about the young man before him made him uneasy. “Who? I might be able to help you find them.”  
  
The brunette hesitated, eyes glancing around, although Lance wasn’t sure if it was because he didn’t want to say or if he had nothing to tell. “Um… Melvin?”  
  
Lance nodded. “He’s been given paid leave until this mess has been sorted out,” he explained. “Was it important?”  
  
The brunette shook his head. “It’s fine.” He turned to leave, but paused halfway. “May I ask why the archives are swarming with police?”  
  
“There was a break-in. Second one within a month.”  
  
The brunette frowned, nodding. “Thanks,” he muttered distractedly and disappeared down the corridor.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin ducked under the yellow police tape and into the archive section. He’d been in and out so often that the officers covering the case knew him by name – well, fake name. They’d been all protocol and ‘you can’t come in here’ initially, but Leon had vouched for him. That was one thing Merlin had always been good at – making friends. And enemies, apparently.   
  
“Morning, Melvin,” one of the officers nodded to him as he passed.   
  
“Melvin,” Lance walked up to greet him. “What can I do for you?”  
  
It always hurt that he’d become friends with ‘Lance’ and not have the man remember anything about who he used to be.   
  
“Just wanted to see how the case was coming along.” In all honesty, he hadn’t gotten any leads since his discovery almost a week ago. Anything the police could dig up – although it wasn’t likely they would in a case like this – would be better than nothing.  
  
“Nothing new, I’m afraid.”  
  
Merlin sighed, running a hand through his hair.   
  
“Oh, someone was looking for you.”  
  
Merlin’s head snapped up. Who would be looking for him? All of his friends were from Camelot and they all had his phone number.  
  
“Didn’t catch his name. Young, probably in his early twenties. He had sort of shortish, brown curly hair,” Lance gestured to his own hair weakly as he tried to describe who he had seen.   
  
But Merlin was no longer listening. His blood had run cold. Wide eyed, he spun on his heel and fled, desperate to get back to Arthur, Gwen and Morgana. If he’d been able to find him here – with his fake name, no less – what else had he found? Merlin hadn’t factored in _his_ presence, and he was kicking himself for it. There was only one person he could think of who looked like that.  
  
Mordred.  
  
He was vaguely aware of Lance calling after him as he ran, but that was the least of his problems. He had half a mind to apparate right then and there, regardless of who was around to see him.   
  
“Melvin!”  
  
Merlin burst out through the front doors, taking the steps two at a time. He was halfway down the street before something stopped him. Merlin staggered to a halt as he caught sight of a painfully familiar face smiling at him from a ways further down the path. He didn’t tear his eyes from the figure, even as Lance’s hand grabbed his arm.  
  
“Melvin! What’s wrong?!”  
  
The figure started moving towards him, the smile never once faltering.   
  
“Well, well,” Morgause said as she came to a stop a reasonable distance away. “You’re a difficult man to track down, Merlin. But in the end, it’s hard to hide when you give off such a powerful aura.”  
  
“Morgause,” Merlin returned darkly. “Why did you come here?”  
  
“Why else?” Morgause huffed, crossing her arms. “I came to find out what you’ve done with my sister. If you tell me truthfully and willingly, I’ll make your death swift and mostly painless.” Clearly she wasn’t concerned about the officer standing beside him.  


Lancelot! He had no idea what was going on. And he was in danger. Merlin took a large step forward, shielding Lance with his body.   
  
“Melvin, what–”  
  
Morgause narrowed her eyes, looking between him and Lance. “Hmm, he doesn’t know, does he?”  
  
“Morgause,” Merlin said warningly.   
  
“You know, now he’s seen me I can’t let him live.”  
  
“Morgause.”  
  
“Answer my question and I’ll extend the courtesy of a swift death to him, as well.”  
  
In the corner of his eye Merlin saw Lance pull his gun out of its holster and aim at the blonde. “Look, miss, threatening homicide isn’t something I can pretend I didn’t hear. I’m going to need you to put your hands up where I can see them,” the officer instructed calmly.  
  
Morgause smirked, raising one hand towards Lance. Merlin knew exactly what she was going to do.  
  
“ _Dynt_ _fortredinge!_ ”  
  
Merlin held up his own hand, an invisible shield wrapping around both him and Lance, upon which Morgause’s attack struck uselessly.  
  
Lance stood wide-eyed, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. Wasn’t it just the other day that he’d been asked whether or not he believed in magic? And now it was happening right before his eyes.   
  
Morgause lowered her hand, an unreadable expression on her face. “Answer the question, Merlin!”  
  
“I only did what she wanted me to do!” Merlin’s tone was harsh, more than over with games. “She’s scared of you, Morgause. Now you answer me something. What do you want with the Cup?”  
  
“You honestly think I’m going to tell you anything?”  
  
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time the vengeful sorcerer monologued to me and revealed every little intricate detail of their plans.” Merlin placed a hand on the barrel of Lance’s gun, lowering it. “If she’s anything like she used to be, bullets won’t work on her,” he told him.  
  
Lance glanced at him uneasily, but didn’t put his gun away. Everything that had happened in the last few minutes was way over his head. Something half faded in the back of his mind fought to reach the surface. An image. A voice. A face. A name.   
  
A life.  
  
“I’ll only ask you one more time,” Merlin declared. “What do you want with the Cup?”  
  
“Hmph,” Morgause smirked. “It would seem neither of us will achieve what we had intended today. _Geleórednes_!” A whirl of wind picked up around her, the strength of the gusts forcing both Merlin and Lance to shield their eyes. When the wind finally died down, Morgause was nowhere in sight.   
  
Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. He was more than a match for Morgause, but with Lance just behind him and the risk of civilians getting involved, he didn’t want to take any chances.   
  
“Merlin?”

 

* * *

 

 

Three of the five occupants of the room jumped as the door burst open – the two dragons having heard and felt them coming.   
  
“Wait, Merlin, what’s going on?” came a familiar voice and everyone froze, watching the doorway in anticipation. They couldn’t have heard right, surely…  
  
But then their favourite warlock stepped into the lounge, a smile splitting his face from ear to ear. “Hello, everybody!”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur began. “Did I hear who I thought I–”  
  
Then into the room, and answering his question, came Lancelot.  
  
Arthur gave a sort of half laugh half disbelief exclamation, rising to his feet and clasping his former knight’s arm.   
  
“Sire,” Lancelot bowed his head.  
  
Gwen had covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wet. Morgana likewise had gotten to her feet, but had remained where she stood, making no move to come any closer.  
  
Once Arthur released him, Gwen hurried forwards and pulled the man into a hug which he awkwardly returned. Lancelot happened to glance up at that moment, catching sight of Morgana. In one swift movement, he had pulled Gwen behind him and raised his gun.  
  
“Whoa, whoa,” Merlin quickly stepped into the line of fire. “Lance, put the gun away,” he instructed slowly, as though talking to a child.   
  
Lance hesitated, an uneasy expression on his face as he looked from his friend to Morgana – the indirect reason he had died. But he trusted Merlin’s judgement so, begrudgingly, he put his weapon back into its holster. “Does someone want to explain to me what’s going on?”  
  
Gwen, Arthur and Merlin all swivelled to stare at Morgana. The witch bit her lip, averting her eyes at the attention. But she had wanted this, and she wasn’t about to back down now.   
  
“Lancelot,” she spoke quietly but every word was clear. “Because of me, you have suffered. Not only were my actions the cause of your death, but I had the gall to shame you and tear a rift between that which you sought to protect. And I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”  
  
Lancelot was stunned. _Morgana_ was apologising to him. _Morgana_. She was _apologising_. Everyone was watching him now, waiting for his response. But what could he say to that? ‘I forgive you’? He could see from the way her eyes were watering and the slight furrow of her brow that she was sincere, yet he couldn’t bring himself to utter those three little words.   
  
It wasn’t so much that she had killed him and shamed him. No, what bothered him were all the other things. The harming of innocents, the fear she had caused, the destruction, endangering his friends and loved ones, and yes, causing a rift between Gwen and Arthur – the very thing he had stepped aside for. Because Arthur was – is – a good man, and he loves her. And Gwen was happy. That’s what was, and is, important. And that’s what he couldn’t forgive.   
  
He’d waited too long to respond. The others were starting to shift uncomfortably.   
  
“Um, why don’t I go make some coffee?” Gwen fidgeted, trying to ease the tension.   
  
“Uh, yeah,” Merlin blinked, turning to her. “Did you want any help?”  
  
“…There is much you have done that I don’t think I can forgive.”  
  
At the sudden, almost silently uttered words, all stilled.   
  
“And it’s not so much my own personal pride that I care about. And while it is going to take a lot of time and _a lot_ of convincing, I don’t trust you. Not yet. But I do trust Merlin. And Arthur and Guinevere. So if they’re willing to give you a chance, then who am I to protest?”  
  
Morgana was nodding, her eyes no less shiny, but her brow considerably unfurrowed. “Thank you.”  
  
Aithusa decided she’d had enough of the mushy stuff and that she’d waited long enough. Picking herself up off the floor, she bounded over and started circling the knight, her tail wagging as she examined him.  
  
Lance chuckled, squatting down to her height. “Hello, there,” he smiled. “It’s funny, I never picture you having pets,” he said, directing his attention to Gwen who had yet to go and make coffee.  
  
“Oh, she’s not mine; neither of them are, actually. No, they’re Merlin’s. Well, they don’t really _belong_ to anybody, but—”  
  
“Aithusa, come here,” Merlin called, cutting off Gwen’s flustered tirade with a grin.   
  
At her Dragonlord’s call, Aithusa happily trotted over, accepting the loving scratch behind her ears. She did her best to remain still as Merlin’s palm settled on her forehead. “ _Íwan_ _sóþan_ _híw._ ”  
  
Lancelot watched in fascination as the white dog morphed, changing in front of his very eyes. The fur covering her body became gleaming white scales, and extra set of appendages forming from her back. In a matter of moments, what had once been a dog was now a small white dragon. “O…kay.”  
  
Aithusa turned back to the knight.   
  
“Huh,” Lance huffed, stroking Aithusa’s head as she sat down in front of him. “I would never have guessed there were still dragons around… I mean, with the Great Purge and all. Surely that gold one was the last?”  
  
Arthur’s head slowly twisted until he was facing Merlin, a somewhat murderous expression on his face. Merlin resolutely avoided his gaze. Arthur had been somewhat miffed when he’d found out Lancelot had known but not him.  
  
There was a quiet, rather annoyed grumble of “gold one” from the other side of the room and it was all Merlin could do not to laugh. Clearing his throat, he navigated his way over to Kilgharrah and repeated the earlier spell.   
  
“That… err… ‘gold one’ would be Kilgharrah.”  
  
Lance had the decency to look sheepish.   
  
“As for extinction, I found and hatched Aithusa after you… Anyway, she and Kilgharrah were the last two and yes, when they died the race of dragons went with them.”  
  
“But then how…?”  
  
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure,” Merlin plonked himself down beside the miniature Great Dragon, resting an arm casually over Kilgharrah’s back. He had a lot of respect (and annoyance with those damn riddles) for the dragon, and if Kilgharrah were his old size, Merlin would never have dared tease him, but with how small and adorable he was, it was really hard not to. As was expected, Kilgharrah didn’t much like being used as an arm rest and hit him with his wing.  
  
“One day I went down to the lake and found a dragon egg. Wasn’t until a few years later that I found out it was him,” he explained, smiling down at his old friend. “It was the same with Aithusa, but she didn’t show up until about a year or so after Kilgharrah.”  
  
Never one to turn away affection (and always a little jealous), aforementioned white dragon hurried over to her rejected Lord and curled up in his lap (although half of her was hanging over onto the floor; she wasn’t as little as she used to be).  
  
“Sir Lancelot,” Kilgharrah nodded. “It has been a long time.”  
  
Lancelot returned the gesture respectfully.   
  
“So what triggered your memories?” Gwen asked, not bothering to try and hide her smile as she watched the three kin on the floor.  
  
Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. “That would be… uh… Morgause and her love for violence.”  
  
“What?” Morgana gaped, horrified. “Are you both alright?”  
  
“We’re fine, thanks to Merlin.”  
  
“She was asking about you,” Merlin told Morgana. “I only told her what she already knew. She fled before things escalated.” He was silent for a moment. “Also, I’m pretty sure Mordred’s back.”  
  
Kilgharrah growled while the others stood with mixed expressions of dread. All except for Lancelot.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“The man you said was looking for me; I’m pretty sure that’s who it was. It’s worrying, because it means he knows me by my fake name.” Merlin realised he’d gone off on a tangent. “Mordred became a knight a little while after you… after the dorocha incident. He then went on to be the one to kill Arthur.”  
  
Lance opened and closed his mouth a few times, giving a decent impersonation of a fish as he looked from Merlin to Arthur.  
  
“So where do we go from here?” Arthur asked with a sigh.  
  
“I think we need to go get your sword.”


	16. Chapter 16

They had decided to make a day of it. It was both a chance for the others to reunite with Lancelot and to get a good snoop at Merlin’s house. The main room – an open kitchen/dining and living space – was rather cramped when they were all inside, although nobody except Arthur seemed to mind that it was so small. But everyone was in agreement that it was just so… so _Merlin_.  
  
It seemed to the nine people squashed into the little house that Merlin was stalling. Only three of them knew why, but one was still confused. Surely the ancient warlock would be jumping at the opportunity to see his dead girlfriend. Apparently not.  
  
“Why don’t we go walk down to the lake and get this over with?” Gwen asked, not unkindly.   
  
Merlin averted his eyes, biting his lip.  
  
“Come on, _Mer_ lin,” Arthur huffed. “We all could use some fresh air. I thought you’d be happy to–”  
  
“It’s not that,” Merlin quickly interrupted. They all waited for him to elaborate, but an explanation never came.  
  
Arthur sighed. “Fine, you wait here and I’ll take the others down.”  
  
“That will not work, Pendragon,” Kilgharrah announced.   
  
“Why not? I know where it is.”  
  
“The Lady of the Lake will come for none but Merlin.”  
  
“Lady of the Lake?” Elyan frowned in confusion.  
  
“She’s the one guarding Excalibur,” Aithusa explained.  
  
“Why don’t we go down and set up the picnic,” Gwen suggested. “We don’t have to get the sword straight away.”  
  
Merlin slowly nodded, following after the others as they all filed out of the house with Arthur leading the way.  
  
 _It’s alright, Merlin_.  
  
Merlin startled at the sudden voice in his head and looked down at Aithusa who was walking beside him.  
  
 _I know you’re sad. Don’t feel like you’re not allowed to be. But surely being able to see her, even for a short time, is better than not getting to see her at all.  
  
You’re right,_ Merlin acknowledged. _But that doesn’t make it any easier_.  
  
In the end, it was Gwen and Morgana who chose a nice patch of grass not too close to the lake edge. With all of them helping, it took only a few minutes to set up, and soon they were all sitting on the blankets that had been laid down.  
  
“It really is a beautiful spot,” Morgana murmured.   
  
The others nodded in agreement; all except Lancelot who was frowning in something akin to recognition.  
  
“Is this where…?”  
  
“Yes. I’m surprised you can remember it,” Merlin forced a smile.  
  
“Remember what?” Leon interrupted.   
  
“There are many who have been put to rest in this place,” Kilgharrah said, sitting down. “The Lady was not the first, nor the Once and Future King the last.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“This lake is the gateway to Avalon,” Merlin sighed, his answer slightly less cryptic. “It was where I brought Freya, Lancelot and Arthur when they died.”  
  
Aithusa gave a sad sort of mewl and rested her head on her Lord’s arm.  
  
“Yes, and you, too.”  
  
A sombre silence fell onto the group, no one really sure what to say to that, and none having the courage to ask who ‘Freya’ was.   
  
Deciding a mood change was in order, Gwen opened the large basket she had brought and started bringing out the food.  
  
“Alright, I have sandwiches, rolls, salads, slices… everyone help yourself.”  
  
“Wow, Gwen, this is incredible,” Merlin grinned. She always did go a little over the top.  
  
“You expected anything less?” she smirked.  
  
The atmosphere significantly lighter, they all tucked in – even Kilgharrah and Aithusa, for whom Gwen had kindly included roasted chickens. As they sat there, enjoying each other’s company, thoughts about why they had actually come to the Lake of Avalon were pushed to the backs of their minds. Threats to the world could be dealt with later.  
  
So it wasn’t until the sun was creeping towards the horizon and the magic in the air changed that Merlin was snapped out of the peace and brought back down to reality. Looking around at his companions, it seemed none of them had noticed the change except for the dragons, who, like him, had gone still and were looking out towards the lake. Almost hesitantly he turned his head, following their gazes.  
  
She was as beautiful as he remembered her. The real thing had nothing on a hallucination.  
  
Merlin jumped to his feet so quickly his head spun and he had to take a moment to regain his bearings. The others had stopped talking and were watching him, before they too turned and saw what he had seen before them. And like him they also got to their feet, albeit more slowly than he had.  
  
She was smiling at him, even as he stood there, even as his feet refused to move. Gods he had missed her.   
  
She was standing waist deep in the water, although she was completely dry.  
  
“Is that…” he heard Morgana whisper.  
  
“She’s the bastet,” Leon said in a mixture of incredulity, horror and despair.  
  
But Merlin didn’t hear them. Right then, the only thing in the world besides himself was her. Before he could even register what was happening, he was moving forwards. He broke into a sprint, not even stopping when his feet were soaked in the water. And then she was right there. Right in front of him.  
  
“Freya!” Merlin called, tears in his eyes but a beaming smile on his face.   
  
“Hello, Merlin,” she pulled him into an embrace, and for a while they just stood there in each other’s arms, ignorant to the world around them.  
  
“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair.  
  
“And I you,” she buried her face into his neck. She pulled away, but didn’t release him, her gaze drifting in the direction of his house. “You built your house by the lake,” she grinned.  
  
“I would have preferred to have you with me.”  
  
Freya’s smile turned sad. “Your place was in Camelot with Arthur. Even if we could go back and redo it, that would not change. I would not, and will not, allow you to sacrifice your destiny and the life you have built on my account.”  
  
“There would have been a way. We could have made it work.”  
  
“The past is the past, Merlin. Even you cannot change that,” she turned to the people standing on the beach. “Now, isn’t there something you need of me?”  
  
Taking her hand, Merlin led Freya towards the slack-jawed group watching them – feeling slightly embarrassed about having forgotten they were there. They made it to the shoreline before Freya stopped. At Merlin’s questioning glance, her eyes fell to the hem of her dress which was only just sitting in the water. Merlin squeezed her hand took a deep breath.  
  
“This is Freya,” he said by way of introduction. “Freya, this is Gwen, Morgana, Arthur, Lancelot, Leon, Percival, Elyan, Kilgharrah and Aithusa.” He gestured to each one in turn.  
  
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”  
  
There was a chorus of ‘likewise’s and ‘you too’s before Morgana suddenly blurted, “Is that my dress?”  
  
Almost comically, Merlin and Freya blushed, looking down at their feet.   
  
“I might have… uh… borrowed one of your dresses to aid in smuggling her out of Camelot?” he explained quickly, hoping she wouldn’t hear.  
  
“Is that what you were doing?” Gwen shook her head exasperatedly. “Moths, my foot.”  
  
Those who didn’t know the story looked from Gwen to Merlin in bemusement.   
  
“So Merlin tells me you’ve been taking care of my sword,” Arthur began. Trust a king to get straight down to business.  
  
“Yes. It isn’t the first time Excalibur has been in my care. It is a powerful sword that could do great damage in the wrong hands. If I return it to you, you must swear to take good care of it,” Freya replied seriously.  
  
“You have my word.”  
  
Freya nodded and the water started to churn with waves. They all watched in fascination as a golden hilt was brought up by the swell and Freya leant down, drawing Excalibur up and out of the water. “Then it is yours,” she held it out to him, the waves dying down.  
  
Arthur took a step forward, his hand outstretched to take it but froze when Gwen suddenly exclaimed, “That’s my father’s best sword!”  
  
Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. “I put it to good use?”  
  
Gwen gave him a look that clearly said ‘we will have words later’ and apologised for interrupting. The hilt fell comfortable into Arthur’s hand. It truly was perfection in every way.  
  
“Thank you,” he nodded to her.  
  
“No, thank _you_. Now I’m afraid my time here has come to an end. Please take care of yourselves; the fight ahead of you will not be easy.”  
  
She took a step backwards, moving further into the water.  
  
“Wait!” Merlin grabbed her wrist, stopping her short.   
  
“I’m sorry, Merlin. You know I cannot stay with you. But until the time comes for you to leave this world and move on to Avalon I will wait for you. We will see each other again.”  
  
“Look at me! I’m 1500 years old!” he cried desperately. “When will that be?!”  
  
Freya stood on the tips of her toes, bring her lips to Merlin’s. Even as he held her she started to fade into nothingness. “I will always love you.” And with those final, whispered words, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Merlin remained there, standing on the lake shore, staring out at the calm waters, hours after Freya had gone. His friends had stayed a short while, trying to persuade him to return to the house with them but he had stayed resolutely silent and where he was. But in the end, they all had places to get back to – Arthur had insisted that Gwen and Morgana get home before dark, and Elyan had a long drive ahead of him. Lancelot in particular had wanted to stay, but Leon had persuaded him that they needed to get back to their respective departments else they lose their advantage in authority. Percival had gone with them.  
  
All that remained was Arthur and the two dragons, who sat by the tree line, watching him.  
  
Aithusa sighed, resting her head on her claws. “This is why he was reluctant to see her,” she murmured, her eyes resting on Arthur momentarily before returning to her Dragonlord. “It’s always painful to see the one you love and then have them cruelly snatched away once more.”  
  
Arthur looked down at the legendary sword in his lap. What had he done to earn such loyalty? The old man standing on the beach had done so much for him, _lost_ so much. And yet he would still give whatever it took for _him_. He just didn’t understand. He couldn’t fathom having to choose between Gwen and Merlin. He loved Gwen, with all his heart, but he couldn’t picture a life without his clumsy, idiotic, magical manservant. What would he do if ever forced to choose? If the time came when he couldn’t pick both? Would he then finally understand? But in the end, it didn’t matter. Because he didn’t have to choose. But Merlin had.  
  
With renewed determination, Arthur sprung to his feet. Kilgharrah and Aithusa watched him with mild interest as he resolutely marched over to Merlin and grabbed his arm.  
  
“Come on,” he ordered, dragging the all-powerful warlock away from the water.  
  
That seemed to snap Merlin out of his brooding. “Wha…?”  
  
“They must have taverns these days,” Arthur looked around, as though expecting a tavern to reveal itself amongst the trees.

 

* * *

 

 

There was nothing quite like alcohol for drowning your sorrows, Merlin concluded. He was on his second beer and was starting to feel a little better. But he was a little confused. Hadn’t Arthur always been annoyed when he’d spent, sometimes, days on end ‘at the tavern’? So why had he dragged him to one?   
  
“This new stuff isn’t bad,” Arthur commented, sloshing the amber liquid around in its tall, clear glass.   
  
His magic felt like it was buzzing around inside him – a side effect to getting drunk. Honestly, it wasn’t fair. There were men, Gwaine, for instance, who could drink barrels of the stuff and still be sober enough to fight a battle but here he was, only on his second drink, and already getting drunk. That was the main reason he didn’t really drink back in Camelot – he couldn’t afford to be drunk when every other day some magical threat tried to off the prince and/or king.  
  
Maybe he could just let his magic out. Just a little bit. What did he care if someone saw him? It wasn’t the Middle Ages anymore; he wasn’t going to get killed or anything. Besides, these days people loved magic.  
  
He hadn’t realised he’d done anything until Arthur grabbed his glass and forcefully slammed it down onto the table.   
  
“What are you doing?” Arthur whisper-yelled. “You’re the one who said you couldn’t use magic in public and here you are floating glasses!”  
  
Had he done that? “You’re the one who brought me here,” he countered.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting you to get drunk on your second drink!”  
  
“I’m not drunk!”  
  
“A-huh, and Kilgharrah’s a moose,” Arthur replied sarcastically.  
  
“Heh. That would be funny, maybe I should try that.” His face suddenly fell.  
  
Arthur sighed, knowing he was going to regret this. “What?”  
  
“Moose have antlers… he might actually try and kill me this time.”  
  
Arthur resisted the urge to bang his head against the table.  
  
A commotion at a nearby table caught their attention. A scrawny, scared looking man appeared to be pleading with a stereotypical broad-shoulder man twice his size. They were too far away and there was too much noise for them to hear properly, so Merlin whispered a spell to increase his hearing.  
  
“I’m sorry!” the smaller man was saying pleadingly. “It was an accident, let me help you clean it up!”  
  
The large man said nothing, slamming his beer down onto the table and rising to his feet.  
  
The small man looked appropriately scared, his eyes darting over to the exit.  
  
“Did you see that, boys?” the large man looked over at the other, also rather intimidating men sitting at the table. “The little twerp ‘ere’s gone and got beer all over my new jacket.”  
  
The men grunted, smirking at each other.  
  
“Wasn’t that the really expensive jacket you’d been saving for for ages?” one of the seated men grinned sinisterly.  
  
“Yeah, I think it was.”  
  
Merlin didn’t like where this was going. He placed both hands down on the table and pushed himself to his feet. Arthur grabbed him by the sleeve and hauled him back down into his chair.  
  
“Are you crazy? What are you doing?!”  
  
Merlin glared at him.  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t afford to replace it, but I could pay for a dry cleaner,” the scrawny man offered, seemingly terrified.  
  
“What, so you can steal it?”  
  
“What? No, I–”  
  
“You think I’m some kinda idiot?”  
  
“No, if you’d just let me–”  
  
The smaller man was cut off as the large man grabbed him by his collar, lifting him at least a foot off the floor. “I think we need to teach this twerp a lesson, don’t you, boys?”  
  
Perhaps if he were sober, Merlin would have thought things through a bit more. As it was, he had no issues with using his magic to send his beer mug flying through the air where it smashed into the huge man, showering him in beer and making him release the scrawny, panicked man in his grip.  
  
Arthur made a choking noise like a dying cat – either from shock or restrained laughter, or perhaps a mix of both.  
  
The man he had hit wiped the beer from his face with his hand, taking his shocked expression with it. Slowly, the man turned his head until he was staring directly at Merlin. Merlin held his gaze, continuing to glare. The pub fell silent.  
  
The man held Merlin’s gaze as he moved towards them, his lackeys falling into step behind him as they cracked their knuckles. Arthur didn’t stop him this time when he stood, instead joining him.   
  
“Is there a problem?” the man asked with forced calm.  
  
“I think you’re the one with the problem,” Merlin replied darkly.  
  
“Merlin…”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin?” the man sneered. “You’re kidding, right?”  
  
“Is something funny?” Merlin raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Little git like you with such a powerful name… ‘s a bit of an insult to the old guy, don’t ya think?”  
  
Merlin kept a remarkably calm face at the insult. If only that guy _knew_. Heck, maybe he could tell him. It wasn’t like anyone would believe the guy anyway.   
  
“You think so?” he smirked. “Well, maybe it’s about time you learned not to pick on people because they’re smaller than you. You never know when looks can be deceiving.”  
  
“You should mind yer own business, twerp.”  
  
“Sorry, I never was one for doing what I’m told.”  
  
Arthur decided he’d let this go far enough. If he didn’t intervene now, Merlin was probably going to end up killing the guy. He grabbed his manservant’s arm and pulled him behind him.  
  
“Please ignore him, he’s drunk,” Arthur told the large man looming over him. The guy would give Percival a run for his money. “We don’t want any trouble. Do we, _Mer_ lin?”  
  
He’d been hoping said warlock would catch his hint and apologise but drunk-Merlin was even more of an idiot and insolent than sober-Merlin. With growing horror, Arthur was forced to watch as Merlin grabbed his (Arthur’s) drink and threw it in the man’s face.  
  
There were a few hushed snickers in the watching audience that was the rest of the pub but the general reaction was similar to Arthur’s.  
  
“You’ll pay for that,” the man growled, shoving Arthur aside and swinging his trunk-like arm at Merlin.  
  
As it so happened, being drunk seemed to make Merlin slightly less clumsy. He ducked down under the blow and dove forward, his fist connecting with the large man’s stomach. Arthur was the only one to see Merlin’s eyes flash gold as fist and gut connected. The magic-aided punch sent the man flying backward, where he collided with a table, knocking both it and himself to the floor.  
  
There was an uproar.


	17. Chapter 17

Starting a fight in a bar was probably not his best idea ever, Merlin concluded as he ducked a punch from one of the various men who had entered the fray. Neither was coming to the bar in the first place, but that was Arthur’s fault. Kilgharrah was going to give him the lecture of a lifetime when he got home. Aithusa would probably just laugh.   
  
Why did unrelated people always have to get involved in these sorts of things? Merlin stepped back, just missing a man felled by another’s punch to the gut, tripped over an overturned chair and landed heavily on his back. He groaned, turning his head to locate Arthur in the mob. The Once and Future King was not focusing on any one opponent; his knight’s training from so long ago instinctively kicking in.   
  
A man with a rather large beer-belly staggered back to his feet, spotted Arthur and charged.   
  
“Arthur!” Merlin called out to his oblivious friend.  
  
Arthur, hearing his name, turned, his eyes falling on Merlin. Merlin felt his magic rise to the surface and it was with no small amount of satisfaction that he watched the large man slip on air and land face-first on the wooden floor. Arthur swivelled in time to see the man fall, but only spared him a glance before dodging a stray blow and navigating his way over to his manservant.  
  
Grabbing him by the upper arm, Arthur hauled Merlin to his feet.  
  
“Now is not the time for a nap, Merlin.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
Despite their best efforts, the two were separated once again, but Merlin wasn’t worried. Arthur had proven time and again that he could hold his own in a fight, even without a sword. And without the threat of being executed or banished hanging over his head, Merlin didn’t have to hold back, either. His magic almost had a mind of its own as it moved chairs and tables into the paths of others, tripping unsuspecting victims and enhancing his blows.   
  
His mind was sent back to a time long, long ago to a similar situation. Another bar fight. Merlin glanced across to the bar and spotted a stack of plates on a shelf. He couldn’t resist. Merlin sidestepped the man about to barrel into him and manoeuvred his way over to the bar. He snuck a quick look around to make sure no one was watching him before sending the plates, one by one, flying off into the heads of their various targets.   
  
A man in front of him was downed by a blow to the head and Merlin found himself openly gaping at the man left standing staring back at him.   
  
“You look surprised to see me. Didn’t miss me too much, did you?” Gwaine winked.  
  
Merlin blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real or not. It had been a long while since the last time he’d suffered from a hallucination – he’d been far too busy – and this Gwaine was dressed in modern clothes and seemed happy to see him. But it was still possible that the Gwaine grinning at him was just a figure of his imagination drawn out by the similarity of the situation to that of his and the rogue knight’s first meeting. There probably wasn’t much point (a fake Gwaine was just as likely to say he was real as real Gwaine), but he had to ask.  
  
“ _Are you… are you real?_ ” he asked, unconsciously opting for the old language.   
  
The smile on Gwaine’s face slipped into a frown. But the sounds of sirens blaring drowned out any answer he was about to give. There was a sudden rush of people trying to get out before the police arrived. Merlin frantically scanned the swarm for his king, locating him being jostled and confused on the other side of the pub. It would be a complete disaster if Arthur got arrested.  
  
“ _Arthur! Get out!_ ”  
  
Arthur searched the faces around him, unable to find the warlock. “ _Where are you?_ ”  
  
“ _Over at the bar. Don’t worry, just get out. I’ll meet up with you outside._ ”  
  
Arthur hesitated, unwilling to leave without Merlin. Their eyes locked momentarily before the flow forced the Once and Future King out through the door.   
  
Merlin roved his eyes over the walls of the pub, searching for a back exit.  
  
“We’d better get out of here if we don’t want to get arrested,” Gwaine commented lightly.  
  
Merlin startled, having forgotten the rogue was there. He still wasn’t sure how corporeal this Gwaine was, but he could figure that out later. The sirens were getting louder. Without wasting any time, Merlin grabbed Gwaine by the arm and backed them both up against the wall masked in shadow behind the bar.  
  
“ _Ápulle_ _ús_ _geond._ ”  
  
There was a stomach-churning pulling sensation, as if the wall was swallowing them whole. He heard Gwaine gasp as the world around them went black. A second later they were stumbling back into another room. Merlin released his grip on his companion’s sleeve and gazed around the small space. A row of stalls lined one wall and basins opposite.   
  
“Is this… a women’s bathroom?” Gwaine asked from beside him.  
  
“Good lord I hope not,” Merlin replied absently.   
  
“So how long have you been able to use magic, mate?”  
  
“Uh, can we talk about this when we’re not at risk of being arrested for sexual assault?” Merlin watched the door to the bathroom cautiously. “I’m going to put a glamour over us so we can just walk out, but you have to make sure not to do _anything_ that would draw attention to us.”  
  
“Of course, you know me.”  
  
“That’s exactly why I’m worried.” Merlin sighed. “ _Áhellaþ._ ”  
  
“So now we just leave?”  
  
“Yes. But be quiet. They may not see us but they can still hear us.”  
  
Regardless that they couldn’t be seen, Merlin and Gwaine exited the restroom with the same level of awkwardness as they would have if everybody in the restaurant outside had stopped and turned to stare at them; well, Merlin did, at least. Gwaine, on the other hand, held his head high, smiling at any pretty ladies they happened upon, while Merlin kept his head bowed, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.   
  
To avoid detection, they loitered in the doorway until a couple opened the door and walked in, slipping out before it closed behind them. Merlin let the glamour fall and released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.  
  
“So, magic,” Gwaine said conversationally as they headed down the street towards the bar in search of Arthur.   
  
Merlin ran a hand down his face. “From the beginning.”  
  
“The beginning being in this lifetime or the previous?”  
  
“The previous… although for me there is only one.”  
  
Gwaine stopped. “What do you mean?”  
  
Merlin looked back at him over his shoulder. “Exactly what I said.” It was becoming clear that this was _not_ a hallucination. “Did you ever hear about Emrys?”  
  
Recognition flashed in Gwaine’s eyes and he laughed. “It’s not enough that you have magic but you also get to be the most powerful sorcerer to ever live?” he smacked a friendly hand on the warlock’s back. “It’s good to see you again, mate.”  
  
Merlin felt a smile tugging at his own mouth. If this was his reaction to magic, Merlin couldn’t wait to introduce him to Kilgharrah and Aithusa.   
  
“So Princess is back, too, huh?”  
  
“Yup, along with pretty much everyone else.”   
  
The sound of sirens had stopped by now, the police assumingly clearing out the pub. He hoped Arthur managed to get away. Merlin fished into his pocket and pulled out his phone, grateful that he’d had the insight to buy it. He pressed Arthur’s speed dial number and held the device to his ear.  
  
“Arthur, where are you?” he asked as soon as the call connected.  
  
 _“On the corner near the pub. There are a bunch of people in uniforms running around.”_  
  
“Okay, we’ll be there in a minute. Stay away from the police. You have no identification or anything so if you get arrested we’re in big trouble.”  
  
“No identification?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow as Merlin hung up.   
  
“It’s a bit hard to have a birth certificate and all the required paperwork when you weren’t born in this era.”  
  
Gwaine’s eyebrow was so high now Gaius would have been proud.  
  
“He came out of the lake a few weeks ago,” he shrugged.  
  
“All right then.”   
  
They resumed walking.   
  
“There’s a lot you need to be filled in on, but we can talk about that later when there’s no risk of being overheard.”  
  
As he had said, Arthur was waiting for him on the corner of the street, looking rather interested in the police officers called onto the scene of the bar fight.   
  
“Arthur!” Merlin called, waving with a big grin on his face.  
  
Arthur’s eyes widened when he caught sight of Gwaine.  
  
“Hey, Princess,” the rogue knight beamed, clasping his former king’s hand firmly and pulling him into a manly hug. “Long time no see, eh?”  
  
“Trust you to be found in a bar,” Arthur chuckled. “Nothing’s changed, then.”  
  
“Well, ever since I remembered I’ve been searching high and low for you guys. What better place to get information than at a pub?”  
  
“How about the internet?” Merlin quipped.   
  
“The what?”  
  
“I doubted you would go by your old names, besides you can hardly expect me to get little profiles with everything I need to know simply by searching ‘Merlin’ or ‘Arthur Pendragon’.”  
  
“Touché.”  
  
“Come on,” Arthur grabbed Merlin by the back of the jacket and started pulling him in the general direction of their home. “Let’s get back before you start another fight.”  
  
“You coming, Gwaine?” Merlin asked, freeing himself from Arthur’s grasp.

  

* * *

 

 

Kilgharrah raised his head as he sensed the presence of someone coming towards the house. In the corner of his eye he noted Aithusa doing the same. They were both on edge, rising to their feet and paying the door their full attention; it wasn’t Merlin they sensed.   
  
Someone had broken through the barrier.  
  
“Should we go see who it is?” Aithusa asked quietly, not taking her eyes off the entrance to their small house.  
  
“And if you were to be seen? For them to have broken through Merlin’s barrier, they would have to be of great magical ability or be allowed entrance by Merlin himself.” Kilgharrah replied. “As we do not recognise their presence, it is more likely the former.”  
  
“What do we do?” Aithusa took a breath. “I can’t contact Merlin.”  
  
“For now we wait.”  
  
And so they waited. Until the presence reached the clearing within which the house was situated.   
  
Kilgharrah jumped down, landing gracefully beside his kin, who was clearly more nervous than him. He felt his metaphorical hackles rise and a low growl escape his throat as the doorhandle rattled. The door had been locked with magic, but Merlin hadn’t made the spell powerful – thinking the barrier would be enough to keep most people out – and anyone with the considerable magic required to get through the barrier would be capable of getting around such a simple spell.   
  
So he wasn’t surprised when the magic in the air increased momentarily and the door swung open.

 

* * *

 

 

  
“There are a couple of important friends of mine that I’d like you to meet,” Merlin grinned, leading Arthur and Gwaine through the barrier protecting the lake.  
  
But he stopped dead in his tracks as the foreign magic in the air washed over him.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
He was ignorant of his friends’ concern. Only the growing panic seizing his attention. Without a second glance at his companions he took off through the forest like a bat out of Hell, desperate to reach his house.  
  
Because the strange, yet familiar magic wasn’t the only thing that had caught his attention.  
  
The spell locking the door had been compromised, completely overpowered and practically shredded. The door hung open, swinging slightly in the breeze. He could hear Arthur and Gwaine calling out to him somewhere from behind but all he was aware of was the upturned room inside.  
  
The furniture was charred, some pieces lying on their sides. Aithusa’s favourite rug was little more than a few scraps of material clinging together by fragile fibre strands. The couch was torn in multiple places, the padding starting to fall out and the material blackened by fire.  
  
Merlin fell to his knees.  
  
Far more horrifying than the destruction of his home was the two things missing.  
  
Kilgharrah and Aithusa were gone.


	18. Chapter 18

Merlin was ignorant of the hard wooden floorboards beneath him, the stench of burning, the cursing of Gwaine as the rogue knight took in the scene. He was vaguely aware of someone trying to talk to him – probably Arthur – but it was like he was underwater, unable to discern the words as anything more than a low drone in the background.  
  
There was an aching in his chest, like someone had reached in and yanked out his heart. He had gotten so used to the presence of the two dragons over the last few years that the thought of them suddenly gone made him want to dig a hole to curl up and die in while simultaneously destroying the one who had dared try and separate them. But it wasn’t the same pang as that which he felt when his kin had died; that was some good news at least.   
  
Merlin shivered as a wisp of lingering magic brushed against him. Suddenly the oppressing depression twisted and mutated, simmering down into a blistering rage. Arthur and Gwaine were still talking to him but fell silent as he rose steadily to his feet. With barely a thought the room started to right itself, damages repairing and overturned furniture returning to their proper places.  
  
He sent out his magic throughout the house, mentally cataloguing his possessions and checking for anything missing. Nothing. Not even food from the fridge had been taken – not that he’d expected it to. Whoever had done this was of considerable magical ability, making the only plausible object of their search something magical; perhaps the Cup of Life that remained unfound or Excalibur, strapped securely and invisibly to Arthur’s waist.   
  
The bookshelf in his room had a considerable residue of foreign magic surrounding it. Merlin felt a smirk cross his features. Those books were protected by more than a few simple spells, and thrice as powerful as the barrier.   
  
“Merlin?”   
  
He ignored Arthur’s concerned call, murmuring, “ _Gadre drýcræft_ _láfa._ ” His magic was more than happy to obey his command, shepherding the remnants of sorcery to a collective pool before him, becoming visible to his eyes with nary a word. He didn’t even need to dissect it to know _exactly_ who it belonged to – once in a greater mass it began phenomenally easier to identify. And yet there was a strange sense of satisfaction as he watched his magic overcome and practically obliterate _hers_. He silently vowed she would pay for what she’d done.  
  
Merlin startled as a hand fell on his shoulder. Slowly he turned his head to look Arthur in the eye.  
  
“Merlin,” his king said with something akin to concern. “Calm down and breathe.”  
  
Merlin forced himself to take a deep lungful of air, suddenly aware that he’d been holding his breath. Broken from his trance-like state, he noted the way his jaw was clenched and the way his hands were bundled into tight fists. He made a show of relaxing slightly.   
  
“Kilgharrah and Aithusa are gone,” Merlin announced after a moment. “They’re far enough away that I can’t feel their presences.”  
  
“Kilgharrah and Aithusa?” Gwaine frowned.  
  
“They’re dragons,” Arthur explained, watching with some amusement the way Gwaine’s brow rose. “Remember that white dragon?” Gwaine nodded. “That’s Aithusa.”  
  
“And they’re still alive after all this time?”  
  
“No,” Merlin cut across. “They died and were reborn the same as the rest of you.”  
  
“What do you mean, ‘the rest of us’?”  
  
“What happened here?” Arthur quickly asked, changing the subject. “We were only gone for a few hours at most.”  
  
“I think she was looking for the Cup of Life.”  
  
“She?”  
  
“Wait, you mean that thing that makes people immortal?” Gwaine enquired.  
  
Merlin suppressed a flinch. “Like I said, there’s a lot you need to be filled in on. The Cup isn’t here, so there was nothing for her to find.”  
  
“She? Her? Do you mean Morgause?” Arthur crossed his arms, shifting his weight to his left leg.  
  
“No,” Merlin shook his head, moving across the room and pulling three swords – a claymore, a zweihänder, and a sabre – from an umbrella stand in the corner. “Gather the knights. We have work to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Arthur stood in front of the TV, addressing the collection of reborn knights, ladies and Merlin sitting in Gwen’s living room.   
  
The initial joy at seeing Gwaine had been quickly subdued by the heavy atmosphere as the rogue knight locked eyes with Morgana. Gwaine had reacted similarly to Percival and it had taken several long minutes to calm him down.   
  
Morgana had started to cry at the sight of him, apologising profusely over and over again in near hysterics. Arthur had swiftly stepped into his position as a leader when it was clear Gwaine wasn’t going to say anything. He figured the best way to proceed was to get straight down to business. Even now Gwaine stood on the opposite side of the room, resolutely ignoring the reborn High Priestess, although occasionally sending her a glare.  
  
“Tonight,” he continued, “Merlin’s barrier was broken and his house ransacked.”  
  
There were mixed reactions. The knights gave a mixture of shocked expressions, a few cuss words uttered quietly. The girls’ hands had flown up to cover their gaping mouths.  
  
“Merlin believes that it was Nimueh searching for the Cup of Life,” he looked over to see the ancient warlock nodding. “And Kilgharrah and Aithusa are missing.”  
  
“Kilgharrah and Aithusa?” Elyan wasn’t the only confused face in the crowd.  
  
Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly. “They’re dragons… I’m the last Dragonlord. Did I forget to mention that?”  
  
The reaction to living with dragons was almost as comical as their reaction to the barrier being broken.  
  
“You still haven’t told us what you’re planning,” Lancelot pointed out. “If it was just to tell us that you could have called or sent a message. But I have a feeling it has something to do with these swords,” he gestured to the blades resting innocently on the coffee table.  
  
“These are the only ones I have,” Merlin said, looking up at Arthur as though searching for approval. At Arthur’s affirmation he continued. “Unfortunately there aren’t enough for all of you. But I also requested that any of you with access to bring whatever weapons you could…”  
  
Leon removed the two handguns from his belt and placed them down gently beside the swords. Lance did the same with his own two and Percival with his taser.  
  
Merlin gave a ghost of a smile. “Well, that solves that problem. But if we’re going to stand a chance against Nimueh, Morgause, and quite possibly Mordred, we’re going to need to train.”  
  
“Alright,” Arthur took over. “I have the most… recent knowledge in sword skills, so those of you choosing a sword will work with me. Leon, I feel it safe to assume you have the most training with guns. Do you believe yourself competent enough to teach?”  
  
“Yes, Sire.”  
  
“Good,” Arthur stepped forward and lifted the sabre and the claymore, throwing them simultaneously to Lancelot and Percival respectively. “Lancelot, you were once able to best me in a spar, here’s hoping you still have that instinct. Percival, your sheer raw power is better suited to a sword than a gun.”  
  
Lance and Percival easily caught the weapons, pulling them from their sheaths and admiring the excellent condition despite their age.  
  
“Merlin, you’re utterly useless with a sword,” Merlin accepted the weapon with a glare. “Morgana, I don’t doubt your ability with a sword, but I think it would be easier for you with the addition of magic if you went with a gun.”  
  
Surprisingly, Morgana didn’t protest, merely reaching forward and lifting a gun from the pile.  
  
“That leaves one gun, the taser and a sword.”  
  
Merlin lightly tossed the taser to Gwen. “You won’t be able to kill anyone with that unless you seriously overdo it.”  
  
“That suits me just fine, thank you, Merlin,” Gwen smiled.  
  
“Whoa, whoa,” Arthur intervened. “I won’t have you anywhere near danger.”  
  
“Arthur,” Gwen said sternly, her hands on her hips. “Do you honestly think I’m going to sit on the sidelines while the rest of you put yourselves at risk? I care as much as the rest of you about protecting our home and saving Kilgharrah and Aithusa. And if any of you disagree, I’ll tase you right here and now,” she made a show of raising the weapon and aiming at each of them in turn.  
  
Arthur watched her blankly for a moment before heaving a resigned sigh. “You never were one to sit and wait patiently.”  
  
“I’ll put a glamour over the backyard so we won’t be seen,” Merlin absently wandered out through the sliding door, the others following suit.  
  
Arthur led Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine to one of the far corners where they wouldn’t be at risk of accidentally cutting off someone’s limb who wasn’t supposed to be playing with swords. Gwen and Morgana moved to follow Leon but the latter was stopped by a hand on her arm.  
  
“Not yet,” Merlin said, no traces of a smile on his face. “First I want to cover training… of a different sort.”  
  
Morgana raised an eyebrow but complied, placing her gun with his on the back step.  
  
“Have you used magic in this lifetime?”  
  
“Not that I can recall. Do you think I’m still capable of doing it?” she asked, biting her lip.  
  
“Well, Morgause and Nimueh are back and have proven themselves capable, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re the same.” He raised his hand, palm up, “Let’s start with a simple light spell. _Leoht_.”  
  
Morgana watched in wonder as the blue orb flickered to life in Merlin’s hand, rising a few centimetres into the air. He turned to her with an encouraging smile. Morgana took a deep breath, copying his actions. She thought back to long ago, when the power thrumming through her veins was second nature. She couldn’t restrain the laugh of triumph that escaped her as an identical orb of light appeared.  
  
“See? You can still do it,” Merlin shared her smile, allowing the light to fade out of existence. “Alright, let’s turn it up a notch. Show me a simple fire spell.”  
  
Fire was the way she first began to suspect she had magic. The spell easily jumped to the forefront of her mind and with a small whisper of “ _Bærne_ ,” a small flame danced on her fingertips. Even as she did so, Merlin was moving back, until he was a good six or seven metres away. She looked up in interest.  
  
“Now increase it, build it into a fireball and attack me.”  
  
“What?!” the fire flickered dangerously.  
  
“Relax, you won’t hurt me.”

Morgana hesitated, but the carefree, relaxed composure her tutor held eventually managed to coerce her to get into position facing him. The fire continued to burn merrily around her hand. Even the thought of increasing it into a deadly force made her sick to her stomach, bringing back images of centuries past that she never wanted to relive. With a heavy heart she fuelled the flame with her hitherto dormant magic, growing it into the fireball Merlin had requested. When it was large enough, she made eye contact with Merlin.  
  
“Come on, we don’t have all day,” Merlin coaxed.   
  
Morgana took a deep breath, pulled back her hand and launched the elemental weapon with as much force as she dared.  
  
Merlin didn’t move. Didn’t so much as raise a hand in defence. The fireball was getting steadily closer and for a second it looked as though it might actually hit him. But before Morgana had the chance to cry out, the flames dissipated against an invisible shield.  
  
“Good,” Merlin praised. “How confident do you feel in remembering spells?”  
  
“Pretty good, but not many are the kinds I want to use anymore.”  
  
“Do you think you know enough for a duel?”  
  
Morgana’s eyes widened. “What?”  
  
“If we’re going up against two High Priestesses, you’re going to need to feel competent enough to at least hold your own in a fight.”  
  
She looked over her shoulder at the others, each concentrating on their instructors. The knights with Arthur appeared to be in their element, instinct clearly still strong after all these years. Leon was smiling, Gwen taking to the taser well enough.  
  
The sound of the old language had her turning back to see a semi-transparent shield rising up into a dome around them.  
  
“To stop any stray shots,” he said, seeing her confusion. “Now let’s see what you’ve got.”  


* * *

 

“ _Ástríce!”  
  
_ Arthur lowered Excalibur and turned to his sorcerer, recognising the language used for magic. He could see from the way his knights straightened that they were as shocked as he was to see the magical dome surrounding Merlin and Morgana, who were, apparently, fighting.  
  
Morgana hastily dodged the blast sent at her, manoeuvring herself in a position to retaliate. Merlin didn’t move, allowing Morgana an open shot but she did nothing.  
  
“ _Ic her aciege ænne windræs! Færblæd wawe! Windræs ungetermed: gehiere! Ic ðe bebiede mid ealle strangnesse ðæt ðu geblæwest ond sierest strange! Ge spurne þeos hægtesse!_ ”   
  
The wind whipped up from Merlin’s extended hand, moving towards Morgana, who threw up a hand to protect her face. She remembered this spell; Merlin had used it against her when he’d been disguised as an old man so long ago.   
  
“Come on, Morgana! In a proper duel you would already be dead!”  
  
“ _Bordrand!_ ” Morgana was suddenly freed from the buffeting as a shield appeared from her outstretched hand.  
  
Merlin smiled his approval, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “ _Éar áræme, beféh_ _híe!_ ”  
  
Morgana gasped as the ground beneath her began to rumble, pieces of rock shooting up and starting to clasp around her legs. She quickly jumped back, looking wide eyed at the ground then at Merlin.  
  
“Why are you holding back?” he asked.  
  
“I could ask you the same.”  
  
“If I went all out you would die.”  
  
A chill went down Arthur’s spine.   
  
“The idea of this exercise is to get you to test how much you remember and how much you can do so we know what you need to improve on before we confront the enemy.”  
  
“I’m scared!” Morgana cried. “I don’t want to become the person I was!”  
  
“Magic does not corrupt!” Merlin said, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. “Magic is not good or evil, it just is. If you don’t want to be the person you were, then make an effort to use your power for good!”  
  
There was a long silence in which nobody dared to move.   
  
Merlin heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry.” He plonked down heavily on the grass. “I just don’t want you to be unnecessarily unprepared when the time comes. And the way I learned was through experience. Unfortunately, in this day and age you can’t just walk out into the forest and find a malicious magical creature or bandits.”  
  
“I think I’ll be okay when the time comes,” Morgana joined him on the grass. “Against Nimueh, at least. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to hurt Morgause – I don’t really like the idea of her getting hurt at all. I wish I could just make her see how wrong we were.”  
  
Merlin looked up from where he had been pulling up grass and nodded once. “Then maybe we should practice what we’re not necessarily prepared for.” The shield around them fell as he stood. Grabbing his gun, he made his way over to Leon. “Mind showing me how to use this thing?”

 

* * *

 

The house was despairingly empty when Merlin and Arthur arrived home that night. Merlin’s face hinted to the emotions he was feeling only for a second before the indifferent mask slipped back into place. They’d eaten at Gwen’s so there wasn’t any real reason to stay up except to talk or discuss the current problem, which Merlin clearly didn’t want to do, so Arthur wasn’t all that surprised when Merlin excused himself and disappeared into his room.  
  
He himself was feeling that pleasant tiredness that came after a hard day’s training. He smiled as he thought back to the evening. Gwen had practically demanded Merlin return her lawn to its proper state. Arthur had the feeling that Merlin’s magical lesson with Morgana was more than just preparation for what was to come; from his perspective it was much like what he used to do with the practice dummy – a stress release.  
  
The ex-King sighed, falling back onto the soft mattress. It was nice to be able to just get into bed and forget for a few hours.  
  
It was still dark when Arthur woke. The little white device on his bedside – Merlin had called it an alarm clock – told him it was still a few good hours until sunrise. So why had he woken so early?  
  
A soft banging, like the closing of a door, had him sitting upright, staring into the darkness of the room. If he had to describe it, he would have called it one of Merlin’s ‘funny feelings’. Nevertheless, Arthur found himself sliding out of bed and heading out into the main room; just in time to see Merlin walk past the window towards the lake.  
  
Disregarding the fact he was only wearing a pair of track pants and no shoes, Arthur hurried out after his best friend, easily following Merlin’s clumsy movements down to the shore.  
  
The warlock hugged himself as he looked up at the star-filled sky.   
  
“ _O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo!_ ”  
  
The foreign, powerful words were filled with such longing, such conflicting emotions of hope and despair, that Arthur felt tears sting at the back of his eyes.  
  
Merlin stood there, on the shore looking up at the sky, for a long while, and Arthur didn’t dare to invade what appeared to be such a personal moment. But eventually it sunk in that whatever the ancient warlock had hoped to achieve wasn’t going to happen and he fell to his knees, much like he had when they’d first discovered Kilgharrah and Aithusa missing.  
  
Arthur had stayed idle long enough. Almost hesitantly, he stepped out of the shadows and sat himself down beside Merlin. The ancient warlock didn’t even flinch, giving no indication that he’d noticed Arthur’s presence.  
  
Without warning, Merlin leant sideways, his head landing on Arthur’s shoulder.  
  
“Are you alright?” Arthur asked quietly.  
  
“They’re not coming,” Merlin whispered. “Something’s stopping them from coming.”  
  
“But they’re not dead, right?” he didn’t need to ask who Merlin was talking about.  
  
Merlin shook his head.  
  
“Then we’ll save them.” _I promise you. You won’t have to sacrifice anything; you won’t have to suffer, not anymore._


	19. Chapter 19

It had been a week. A week since they’d found Gwaine. A week since they’d come home to find the two dragons missing. And it had been a week since they’d started preparing for a confrontation.  
  
Arthur was confident his knights were just as skilled with a sword as they had been centuries ago, and Leon had reassured him that Elyan, Morgana, Gwen and even Merlin were showing promise with the guns. Merlin had continued private training in magic with Morgana, although nothing like their first session. They started with still targets before Merlin had enchanted them to move around, and finally moving on to work on defensive techniques.   
  
But although Merlin continued to smile and make jokes, Arthur could tell that it was forced; the ancient warlock hadn’t been the same since his kin had disappeared. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Merlin hadn’t tried to call them again after that night, but Arthur couldn’t deny the depression his sorcerer would let slip into his features when he looked up at the sky, as if expecting Kilgharrah and Aithusa to swoop down apologising for having stayed out hunting for so long.  
  
The investigation at the museum, as expected, had come to a dead end, and now only a few officers remained lingering around. The archives were still closed off, however, leaving Merlin with more free time than he knew what to do with.   
  
Morgana had come to the end of her ‘sick-leave’ and was forced to return to work, but she had made sure to never be alone anywhere. The addition of her increasing magical ability was only to be used if necessary – something Morgana herself had adamantly agreed on.

 

* * *

 

Merlin watched in satisfaction as Morgana successfully hit the moving target with a well-timed spell. She had been making nothing but progress since he’d started the training sessions. They were currently outside, getting in some last minute practice while Arthur helped Gwen prepare dinner. The other knights had promised to get as much training down as they could, but they weren’t all capable of making routine sessions like this.  
  
“Good,” Merlin praised her. “This time I want you to stop them from moving before you attack.”  
  
“Too easy,” Morgana grinned, getting herself into position.  
  
 _You can train all you want but you know you’re not going to be able to stop me_.  
  
Merlin stiffened, his head turning so quickly his neck cracked. He spotted her easily, standing in the back corner of the yard looking exactly as she had when he’d killed her in his first year at Camelot. He glanced nervously at Morgana, but the seer was concentrating on her practice. So it wasn’t real, then.  
  
 _Look at yourself, Merlin. How can someone who experiences hallucinations be of sound enough mind to stand up against me, a High Priestess?_  
  
 _No_ , Merlin thought. _I won’t be manipulated by someone who’s not even here.  
  
And don’t forget it’s not just me you have to face,_ Nimueh continued, a cruel smirk splitting her face.  
  
The figure of Morgause appeared on her left. _You will pay for what you have done, turning my sister against me! It will be just like before. Morgana will claim her rightful place at my side and you won’t have the heart to raise a hand against her._  
  
 _And what about me?_ Mordred suddenly stepped out from behind the two women. _Or did you forget? I killed your precious king once before and I can do it again._  
  
“Shut up,” Merlin ground out between clenched teeth.  
  
“Merlin?”  
  
 _Oh, but don’t worry,_ the reassured him simultaneously. _We won’t kill you straight away. No, we have to keep you alive long enough to witness as we destroy everything you have sought to protect, just as you did for us._  
  
Nimueh laughed. _How about we start with sweet little Guinevere?  
  
Yes_ , Morgause agreed. _The wench must pay for taking my sister’s throne._  
  
“Don’t you dare touch her!”  
  
“Merlin, what is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
 _Then we can move on to the knights. Tie them up and tear them apart limb by limb.  
  
And then it’s Arthur’s turn. Should we allow Morgana the honours, or should we get you to do it?_ Mordred suggested.  
  
“No! Shut up! I won’t let you harm any of them!”  
  
 _Oh really? You couldn’t even stop us from getting through your barrier. You couldn’t even protect your precious flying snakes!_ Even as she spoke Nimueh lifted the severed heads of Kilgharrah and Aithusa, laughing manically as she took in his horrified expression.  
  
“No! Shut up!” Merlin clamped his hands over his ears and squinted his eyes shut against their chorus of laughter and threats, tears slipping down his cheeks. After a moment of silence Merlin dared to open his eyes.  
  
 _You have failed, Merlin_ , the disappointed and angry voice of Kilgharrah’s severed head was just centimetres from his face, Nimueh holding it up with nothing less than sadistic pleasure.  
  
“Merlin!”  
  
“SHUT UP!!” Merlin roared, feeling his magic break free and blast out into the yard.   
  
He watched with sick satisfaction as Nimueh’s eyes widened with shock, the High Priestess dropping the heads of his kin in her haste to scramble back. He matched her pace for pace, feeling his magic wash through him, reacting to his emotions. She stopped with her back to the fence, nowhere left to run.   
  
“I’ll make you pay,” he managed through his anger and sobs. “I swear I’ll make you pay.” He lifted the gun from its holster at his waist and shot three progressive bullets into her rigid body. The apparition dissipated instantly.  
  
 _Even while you deal with one of us you will have your back turned to another!_  
  
Merlin swivelled, eyes locking onto Morgause. He gave an animalistic growl, launching a magical fireball at the woman, who easily stopped it with her own hand.  
  
 _You’ll have to do better than that, Merlin_ , she taunted.  
  
“ _Trymð, cume bec mec!_ ” Merlin smiled as the familiar texture of his Sidhe staff appeared in his hand. “Is this good enough?”   
  
Morgause’s smirk fell.  
  
Merlin raised the staff towards her, channelling his magic through the shaft and the crystals. A spark of blue energy shot out, striking the blonde witch in the chest. One explosion later and she was gone. Now there was only one threat left.  
  
 _You may have been able to stop both Nimueh and Morgause, but even in the past you were never able to stop me!_ Mordred sneered. _Even when you knew exactly what was going to happen you sat by and did nothing! You’re useless! You’re not worthy of the air you breathe!_  
  
“You think I don’t know that?! I know! I _know!_ ” Merlin gasped, taking an unsteady step towards the brunette. He tightened his grip on his staff. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”  
  
 _Merlin_ , Mordred’s expression suddenly morphed into fear and concern. _Merlin, stop. Calm down!_  
  
Merlin ignored him. The change in tactic wouldn’t deceive him. Never again.  
  
 _Merlin, it’s not real!_  
  
“ _Ástríce!_ ” Merlin thrust his hand forward, his eyes flaring gold. Mordred was blown backwards, landing heavily on his back. He stalked onwards, deciding whether to use the staff or the gun. Explosions were more satisfying, he decided.  
  
He didn’t stop until he was standing above his foe, soaking in Mordred’s panic. Slowly, he raised the arm holding the staff, ready to end the nightmare.   
  
He staggered as something barrelled into him, the staff landing with a dull plunk on the grass.  
  
“Merlin, stop!”  
  
Merlin snapped back to his senses, looking down to see Gwen holding both his arms in her shaking hands, tears streaking down her face.  
  
“…Gwen? What…?” he looked up at where Mordred had been to find Morgana helping Arthur to his feet. Both were watching him with wide eyes. They were _afraid_. Afraid of _him_. “No…” _no, no, no, no, no!_ What had he done? What had he been about to do?! He remembered the malice he’d felt, the elation that with one more surge he’d…  
  
Merlin’s stomach heaved and he retched. He’d almost destroyed the very thing he’d sought to protect.   
  
The apparition was right. He was insane – nowhere near mentally sound enough to protect anything, let alone win against two High Priestesses and Mordred.  
  
“Merlin?” Gwen reached for him, only concern in her watering eyes.  
  
“No!” Merlin croaked, throwing himself away from her. “Just… sorry… I…” he shook his head, putting as much distance between himself and his friends. He had to get away. “ _Geleórednes_.”  
  
“No, Merlin!”  
  
In a huge gust of wind he was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shut up.”  
  
Morgana turned away from the target she had immobilised to face Merlin. The ancient warlock was pale, his eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the far corner of the yard.  
  
“Merlin?” she called but he ignored her, continuing to stare silently at the empty corner.  
  
“Don’t you dare touch her!” the anger in his tone shocked her, even in the past she’d never heard him speak so threateningly.  
  
“Merlin, what is it? What’s wrong?”  
  
Again it was like he wasn’t even aware of her presence.  
  
“No! Shut up! I won’t let you harm any of them!”  
  
He was clearly seeing something she couldn’t, and she had no idea what to do. It was like that first time she’d gone into his department and he’d…  
  
“No! Shut up!” Merlin doubled over, his hands clamped firmly over his ears and his eyes shut even as the first tears began to fall.  
  
Morgana didn’t know what to do. She needed help. Throwing caution to the wind she bolted back into the house, startling Gwen and Arthur who were setting the table.  
  
“Morgana, what is it?” Gwen asked, taking in the seer’s distress.  
  
“It’s Merlin,” Morgana managed. “Something’s wrong, I can’t–”  
  
Arthur was out the door before she’d even finished speaking. One look at the warlock was all it took for him to come to the same conclusion as his half-sister.  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur called, sprinting towards his friend.  
  
“SHUT UP!!”  
  
Arthur faulted at the sudden exclamation, freezing in place as Merlin’s magic erupted in a blast that covered the whole yard. He watched, rooted in shock as Merlin, oblivious to his friends’ presences, marched steadily towards the back fence, his eyes trained on nothing, his body tense with fury despite the wet streaks on his cheeks.  
  
“I’ll make you pay,” Merlin promised. “I swear I’ll make you pay.”  
  
They all flinched as Merlin raised his gun, firing three shots at the wooden palings. Arthur felt Gwen grab his arm but made no move to pull away or comfort her. His gaze was fixed solidly on Merlin.  
  
The warlock swivelled without warning, a throaty growl – not unlike the sound of his kin – escaping him. A ball of fire-y death materialised in his hand which he proceeded to launch at one of the targets. The magically enhanced log withstood the scorching, but the edges were charred. But apparently that wasn’t enough for Merlin.  
  
“ _Trymð, cume bec mec!_ ”   
  
The three of them stood watching in trepidation as a strange, gem encrusted staff appeared in Merlin’s hand – Arthur remembered it as the Sidhe staff his sorcerer had told him about when explaining the past.  
  
“Is this good enough?” Merlin asked the target, his eyes far away.   
  
Before they had a chance to react, the staff was raised and a bolt of blinding energy shot out of the topmost crystal, blasting the target into splinters. Arthur felt his heart seize in his throat as Merlin slowly turned to face him.  
  
“You don’t think I know that?! I know! I _know_!” he suddenly exclaimed, his voice almost pleading as he stepped towards his king. “But I won’t make that mistake again.”  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur held his hands up placatingly as his best friend continued towards him, apparently not recognising him. “Merlin, stop. Calm down!”  
  
But Merlin didn’t stop. If anything, his smirk only grew. Was this the goofy, clumsy boy who had turned up in Camelot that day so long ago? Was this the man Arthur trusted with his entire being – who he believed would never hurt him?  
  
Inexplicably, his mind was drawn back to the day he first came out of the lake. The fear in Merlin’s eyes when the warlock had come home. The explanation the dragons had given him. And suddenly everything clicked into place.  
  
“Merlin, it’s not real!” he shouted, desperate to break through to his friend.  
  
“ _Ástríce!_ ”  
  
Arthur was thrown back, hitting the ground hard. Merlin didn’t recognise him. _Merlin_ didn’t recognise him. Stunned, Arthur could only watch as Merlin raised the staff once more, aiming at _him_.  
  
“Merlin, stop!” Gwen cried, hurling her whole weight against her friend, knocking them both back a few steps.   
  
The staff fell to the ground and the haze that had seemed to be covering his manservant lifted, his gaze focusing on Gwen as she cried.  
  
“…Gwen? What…?” he seemed dazed, like he’d just woken from a dream. He searched her face momentarily before looking up at Morgana, his eyes finally landing on Arthur as he struggled upright. “No…”  
  
Arthur opened his mouth to speak but stopped as Merlin suddenly sagged sideways, retching.  
  
“Merlin?” Gwen spoke softly, hesitantly, her hand stretched towards him.  
  
“No!” Merlin pulled himself away as if he’d been burned. “Just… sorry… I…” his head was shaking in denial, his steps frantic as he moved away from them. “ _Geleórednes_.”  
  
“No, Merlin!” Morgana ran forwards, recognising the spell.  
  
The wind that billowed around the sorcerer stopped her in her tracks. And when the gusts finally died down, Merlin was nowhere in sight.

“What… just happened?” Gwen whispered.  
  
“This has happened before,” Morgana announced, reaching down to pick up the staff. “Before I knew who he was – who I was. I went to his department to introduce myself and he was just sitting there… but he looked like he was panicking…”  
  
“It was the same for me.”  
  
The two women turned to Arthur, who ran a shaking hand through his hair.  
  
“That day I woke up,” he gestured weakly. “I found Merlin’s house and the dragons but he wasn’t home. When he got back… the look he gave me… after he’d run off Kilgharrah explained… he said Merlin thought I was a hallucination; that hallucinations weren’t uncommon.”  
  
Gwen sniffed, wiping her wet eyes with her sleeve. “Do you have any idea where he would go?”  
  
“Last time he went to the lake.”  
  
“Alright,” Gwen nodded, heading back towards the house. “Let’s go get him.”


	20. Chapter 20

Merlin fell to his knees. Without the magic surging through him he could hardly hold himself upright. The images of their frightened faces, of what he’d been about to do, repeated themselves over and over again in his head.   
  
It had been so long since he’d had a hallucination, and much, _much_ longer since he’d had one of that scale. But this time he didn’t have his kin there for support. His friends hadn’t understood. They hadn’t known what to do.   
  
More than ever he felt like a failure. What use was he to his king if he was insane? If he mistook the person he needed to protect above all others for the enemy?   
  
Merlin wrapped his arms around himself, mentally willing his body to stop shaking. He couldn’t go back. How could he possibly face them again – face Arthur again?  
  
No. He needed to prove himself; not just to Arthur but to himself. He needed to show that he was capable of doing what destiny required of him.   
  
Merlin forced his way to his feet, ignoring the way his legs shook. Arthur had Excalibur – and there was no way he was going to take it from him – but there was more than one way to kill a witch. He’d been able to kill Nimueh without aid once, but she was stronger now, and not alone. As much as his entire being revolted against the thought, he needed his Sidhe staff.  
  
“ _Trymð, cume bec mec_ ,” he recited his earlier spell, resisting the urge to drop the staff as it appeared in his hand. After all, the conduit hadn’t done anything wrong – it was he who had nearly destroyed Arthur.   
  
With new resolve, Merlin launched his magic like a probe, using it to detect that of his enemies. As the first flakes of snow began to fall, he headed off, ready to end things, one way or another.  


* * *

 

Morgana gasped in the backseat as the staff she’d been clutching like a life-line faded out of existence.   
  
“What is it?” Gwen asked, looking back at her through the rear-view mirror.  
  
“The staff,” Morgana said, wide eyed. “It’s gone.”  
  
“How could it just disappear?” Arthur frowned.  
  
“The same way it appeared earlier…”  
  
“You don’t think–” Gwen cut herself off.  
  
“If Merlin’s gone after Nimueh and Morgause, we’d better hurry,” Morgana murmured. “Before he does something stupid.”  
  
“But we don’t even know where to look!” Arthur sighed.  
  
“Maybe we don’t have to.”  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Call the knights,” Morgana ordered. “I have a plan.”

  

* * *

 

 

Morgause walked cautiously through the park, her hand resting on the pommel of the sword at her hip. It was well past midnight, but it still paid to be wary. A bright smile worked its way onto her face as her sister came into view, seated on the edge of the fountain, small snowflakes adorning her hair; winter had truly begun.  
  
Remembering their previous encounter, and the conversation she’d had with Merlin, Morgause approached slowly, making sure her footsteps weren’t overly muffled as not to scare Morgana. At the sound of clacking heels, Morgana looked up, getting to her feet quickly as she spotted Morgause.  
  
“I got your message,” Morgause said by way of greeting. “I must admit it was not expected.”  
  
“I’m sorry for the way I acted in our last meeting,” Morgana apologised. “I was caught off-guard and had not expected to see you.”  
  
“There is nothing to forgive, sister,” Morgause pulled her into an embrace, her joy increasing when the dark haired sorceress returned the gesture. “Tell me,” she said, holding Morgana at arm’s length. “What did you need of me?”  
  
“I missed you, sister. I want to help you.”  
  
“Merlin told me–”  
  
“Merlin is a fool,” Morgana cut across. “And I would be happy to help put an end to him. He was the one who killed me, after all.”  
  
“He killed you?” Morgause gasped, her anger growing tenfold. “Then he shall pay dearly for what he has done.”  
  
“Aithusa, is she alright?”  
  
“Aithusa?”  
  
“The white dragon. She was a good friend to me in the years after you died; I owe her my life.”  
  
“Nimueh spoke of seeing dragons at that servant’s house. Come,” she grasped her sister’s hand in her own. “We will go to her now. She is not the only one who will be pleased to see you.”  
  
Morgana frowned in confusion but allowed herself to be directed by Morgause. The world seemed to spin as the blonde High Priestess uttered a spell, and when her vision cleared she found herself standing in the heart of the Isle of the Blessed.  
  
The snow here was heavier, the grass covered in a thin layer of frost as more continued to fall from the grey sky above.  
  
“Nimueh,” Morgause called, releasing Morgana’s hand.  
  
“She went out.”  
  
Morgana flinched as a young man stepped out of the shadows. Her whole body stood rigid with shock as she recognised him.  
  
“But she’ll be back shortly. It’s been a long time, my Lady,” Mordred inclined his head respectfully towards both Priestesses.  
  
“Mordred,” Morgana breathed. “It is good to see you again.”  
  
“Forgive me, but I had heard you were allied with Arthur and Merlin. Why the sudden change?”  
  
“I was not allied with them,” Morgana spat. “How could I be after everything they’ve done? I was gathering information. Working undercover, so to speak.”  
  
“And what have you learned, sister?” Morgause asked excitedly.   
  
“For a start, they’re all back – all the knights of that pathetic Round Table. Merlin is mentally unstable – I doubt he is sane enough to even pose a threat. The dragons – I’m sure I could persuade Aithusa to work with me again. With her help we could burnish an immortal blade.” Morgana paused. “You are searching for the Cup of Life?”  
  
“Yes, but we have been unable to locate it as of yet. The museums we searched have proven to be wastes of time.”  
  
“And what do you hope to achieve once we have it?”  
  
“You will see, sister. You will see.”

  
A torrent of wind swept up in the courtyard and the three occupants were forced to shield their eyes.  
  
“Ah, that will be Nimueh now,” Morgause beamed.   
  


“I’m not interrupting, am I?”  
  
Nimueh startled, spinning around to face her uninvited guest. Merlin stood before her, Sidhe staff in hand, apparently calm.  
  
“The Cup’s not here,” he said lazily, glancing at the displays around them. “Or in any museum that I know of.”  
  
“How did you find me?” Nimueh asked, trying to hide her unease. She was not prepared to face Emrys, not without the Cup and certainly not on her own.  
  
“I traced your magic. Where are my kin?”  
  
“Why should I tell you anything?”  
  
In less time than she could blink Merlin was suddenly only inches away from her, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Nimueh jumped back.  
  
“I suggest you answer the question before I lose my patience. And I’m sure you know how unpleasant angry old men can be.”  
  
“I don’t know,” Nimueh replied at length, scanning the room for a weapon. Spotting a display of swords to her left, she summoned her magic to the surface. “ _Sweordræsas, átæsaþ_ _hine!_ ”  
  
The swords pulled free of their displays, blades pointing towards Merlin as they flew. The warlock’s eyes glowed gold and without even looking the swords halted in mid-air before crumbling into dust.  
  
“Have you forgotten? Or did you really think that would work?” he smiled, but there was no humour in it.   
  
“Even an immortal can be stopped if the right means are taken,” Nimueh snapped, glad that her voice held none of the growing disease of her pounding heart.  
  
“But you don’t have those means, do you?” Merlin asked, stepping towards her.   
  
This was bad. There was something more definitely going on here – this was not the young man she remembered from Camelot. Time, or perhaps something else, had changed him. It was clear he wasn’t going to play around.   
  
Nimueh thought of the Isle of the Blessed where her two allies were waiting for her. “ _Geleórednes!_ ”  
  
Merlin grinned as he reached towards her, grabbing her arm. The High Priestess’s eyes widened as she realised this was exactly what he’d wanted.  
  


As the marble beneath their feet changed to grass, Nimueh forcefully pulled herself away from her aggressor, taking several large steps backwards. Merlin watched in amusement as some of her fear dissipated – a change in location wasn’t going to help her. After all, the Isle of the Blessed only made him more powerful.  
  
Gaze focused solely on Nimueh, Merlin raised the staff, preparing to attack.  
  
 _Merlin!_ Morgana’s voice shouted in his head and he froze, just as an invisible force slammed into his side, sending him flying across the courtyard where he collided with the stone wall before slumping to the ground. He groaned, pushing himself to his feet.  
  
“Merlin,” a painfully familiar voice sneered.  
  
Merlin looked up at the man circling around to stand in front of him. “Mordred,” he spat.  
  
“You know,” Mordred said ponderously, “I never got to repay you for helping in Kara’s capture.”  
  
“I didn’t want her to die! It wasn’t my decision to make!”  
  
“Then why didn’t you do what you were supposed to?! Why did it take nearly ten years before you told Arthur? You are Emrys! You were supposed to free magic!”  
  
“It’s because of people like you, and Nimueh and Morgause that it took so damn long!” Merlin snapped. “Do you think I _enjoyed_ having to watch sorcerer after sorcerer murdered, unable to do anything to stop it?! Didn’t any of you stop and think that maybe _attacking_ the king wasn’t a good way of showing him the good magic is capable of?!”  
  
“I saw how close you and Arthur were,” Mordred fought the tears swarming his eyes. “If you had have told him he would have accepted you! You could have put an end to the tyranny!”  
  
“But you didn’t,” Morgause stepped forward, drawing the sword from her belt. “And for all the crimes you have committed against your own kind, we will make you pay.”  
  
“You can’t stop all of us, Merlin,” Nimueh added.  
  
Merlin heaved a sigh. “I am so _tired_ of dealing with all you ignorant _idiots_ who think killing each other is the answer! I’m so sick of everything! In 1500 years nothing has changed,” he took a deep breath, moving into an offensive position. “Fine. Have it your way. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur signalled with his hand, gesturing Leon, Gwaine and Percival to the left. The three knights nodded, creeping silently along the side of the building. He turned to those remaining, giving directions for Lancelot and Elyan to do the same on the right. He felt Gwen move closer to him.  
  
“It might be safer for you to wait out here,” he whispered.  
  
“And let you guys have all the fun?” she smirked, but her hands were holding the taser in a white knuckled grip.   
  
Arthur couldn’t help but be thankful for the bullet-proof vests they were all wearing. If attacked with magic it probably wouldn’t do much, but it was better than nothing.   
  
“ _Arthur, Merlin’s here_ ,” Morgana’s voice came through quietly in the ear piece.  
  
“What? What’s happening?”  
  
“ _He looks really mad. He turned up with Nimueh – they’re about to fight._ ”  
  
“ _We’re ready when you are, Sire_ ,” Leon added.  
  
“ _Likewise,_ ” Lancelot confirmed.  
  
“Right, move in.”  
  
They all charged through into the courtyard, weapons raised and at the ready, in time to see Nimueh nimbly dodge a powerful blast from the staff in Merlin’s hand.  
  
“Surrender,” Arthur ordered, raising his voice to be heard. “We’ve got you surrounded.”  
  
Merlin faltered as he made eye contact with his king, his face paling as he stepped back.  
  
The High Priestesses and Mordred searched each face of the knights before Nimueh broke out into laughter.  
  
“Do you honestly think your little swords and guns are going to be of any use against us?” she asked, composing herself.  
  
Morgana withdrew her own gun from her jacket pocket, decidedly aiming at Nimueh.  
  
“Morgana?” Morgause gaped. “What are you doing?”  
  
“I’m sorry sister,” Morgana bit her lip. “But this isn’t right. We were wrong! What we did, what you are planning to do… it’s _wrong_.”  
  
“Wrong?” Morgause parroted incredulously. “Have you forgotten what they did to you? What _he_ did to you,” she pointed at Merlin who didn’t appear to notice he was being talked about.  
  
“That was our fault! None of that would have happened if we’d tried to show Arthur that magic can be used for good! No one would have had to suffer.”  
  
“I see. Then you have made your choice,” Morgause raised her hand, opening her mouth.  
  
“ _Ástríce_ ,” Morgana shouted, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Morgause, unprepared for the attack, was pushed back, landing heavily on the grass.  
  
“I think I misjudged you,” Gwaine smirked, pausing only long enough to grin at Morgana before he and the knights closed in.   
  
There was a resounding bang as Leon opened fire, but the bullets didn’t even get close to their target before they were stopped by magic. The former head-knight cursed, trying again with the same results. Elyan likewise was unable to do any damage.  
  
“ _Éar_ _brocede_ _híe_ _!_ ” Nimueh cast, her eyes glowing gold. She beamed triumphantly as the knights’ faces drained of colour, the ground rumbling beneath their feet.   
  
Large jagged spears of rock burst upward through the turf. Morgana quickly pulled Gwen back, shielding them both with a hasty spell.   
  
There was a cry of pain as a large piece of earth clamped tightly around Elyan’s leg. Grinding his teeth against the pain, he shot at the rock but it maintained its firm grip. Elyan growled in frustration, turning his gun on Mordred.  
  
“ _Ábréoðaþ_ _gewæ_ _!_ ” Mordred grinned.  
  
Four loud bangs erupted throughout the courtyard as the guns exploded. Leon and Elyan wiped their bloody hands on their trousers, trying to find substitute weapons.  
  
“Are you alright?” Gwen asked, watching her former mistress in concern as she hissed at her stinging hand.  
  
“I’m fine, it’s just a scratch,” Morgana reassured her, frowning at the broken remains of the gun at her feet.  
  
Percival slammed his claymore down hard against Morgause’s sword. He had greater strength than her, but she had once bested Arthur in single combat. Strength wasn’t everything. In the corner of his eye he could see Gwaine moving around behind the witch, his own weapon aimed at her back.   
  
Morgause turned as the rogue knight struck, managing to push Percival back as she blocked the second attack. With a flash of gold, both knights were knocked aside. In a continuous, fluid movement, Morgause readjusted her grip on her sword and plunged it through Gwaine’s thigh.  
  
It had been a long time since he’d bled, Merlin mused as he watched the blood seeping through his trousers. The shrapnel of the exploding gun had procured several cuts in his thigh. He was snapped harshly from his thoughts as Gwaine’s shout reached his ears.  
  
Merlin quickly located the knight, watching in mild horror as Morgause pulled her sword from his leg before raising it above her head, ready to strike the final blow. Percival was behind her, uselessly slamming the claymore against the witch’s shield.  
  
In a second Merlin was between them, catching the witch’s sword against the shaft of the Sidhe staff.  
  
“Thanks, mate,” Gwaine staggered back to his feet.  
  
“ _Stán_ _éaðmóde, dynt!_ ” Morgause growled. A chunk of stone from a dilapidated wall lifted at her command, surging towards him.  
  
Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the rock crashed to the ground, a good few metres from them. With difficulty, he raised his good leg, slamming it into the witch’s torso. Morgause lost her grip on the sword as she stumbled backwards. The Sidhe staff crackled with power, Morgause only just stepping out of range before she was fried.  


* * *

 

 

“Mordred, you were one of my best knights!” Arthur huffed, blocking a strike to his left side. “Why are you doing this?”  
  
Mordred only increased his attack, going for a feint and following with a forward jab. Arthur only just managed stop it in time.   
  
“Mordred! Answer me! I know you’re upset about what happened to Kara–”  
  
“Upset? _Upset?!_ You _executed_ her!” Mordred raged, his eyes glowing gold as he used magic to boost his blow.   
  
Arthur’s arms shook under the exertion of holding back his opponent’s increased strength. Excalibur was forced out of his hands, clattering on the debris.  
  
“I offered her a second chance!” Arthur explained. “She didn’t take it! I gave her the chance to live and she threw it back in my face!”  
  
Lancelot swung, forcing Mordred to face his second opponent. He retaliated, but it seemed his heart was no longer in the fight. As Lancelot charged, Mordred threw him back with a silent spell.   
  
Arthur, who had been edging closer to his sword paused as Mordred swivelled back to him, his jaw clenched.  
  
“Mordred…”  
  
“Swear to me,” the druid murmured. “Swear to me what you say is the truth!” He lifted his sword, holding the point at Arthur’s throat.  
  
In a blur of movement, Mordred lost his grip on his weapon, his eyes wide as the crystal of the Sidhe staff was pressed against his chest.  
  
“Harm him and I will show you no mercy,” Merlin declared in the darkest tone Arthur had ever heard the usually joyful man use. “I will not lose him again!”  
  
Mordred stared at the both of them with wide eyes.   
  
“I swear it to you,” Arthur held his chin high. “I knew she was important to you. I swear I gave her a chance.”  
  
Mordred nodded, the fight all but leaving him.   
  
“Gwen!”  
  
They all turned at Morgana’s cry. Arthur watched in horror as his queen was lifted off the ground by the throat, desperately gripping Morgause’s wrist in an attempt to free herself. Morgana shook with indecision, her hand raised against her sister, her eyes blurred with tears.  
  
“Morgause,” she sobbed. “Let her go. _Please_.”  
  
“Don’t you see, sister?” Morgause met the seer’s gaze. “They have corrupted you! This _wench_ stole your throne!”  
  
“No, Morgause! _Please_ , she’s my friend!”  
  
Arthur raced forward, wincing as his foot caught on a chunk of rubble, pain shooting up his ankle. But he ignored it – he would not lose Gwen. Merlin appeared to be thinking the same thing, easily overtaking him despite the obvious wound in his leg. Magic, Arthur concluded.  
  
“ _Ástríce!_ ”   
  
Merlin hit the ground on his side, his head whacking loudly against stone.  
  
“Not so fast, Merlin,” Nimueh sneered, stalking towards the warlock triumphantly.   
  
Arthur turned from Gwen to Merlin, unsure what to do. Merlin was closer, but he knew he could not lose Gwen. He couldn’t lose either of them. He’d been a fool for thinking he would never have to choose. His mind settled on the indisputable fact of Merlin’s immortality and continued on his way to save his queen.  
  
Percival and Lancelot charged towards Morgause, but a single word from the High Priestess sent them both sprawling.  
  
“Gwen!” Arthur cried desperately, denying that he wasn’t going to get there in time.  
  
Gwen coughed as she was suddenly released, clutching the taser to her chest like a life-line. Morgause glared at her, apparently unable to move. Arthur felt himself beam with pride for Guinevere. Her magic seemed to come to her aid, however, as Morgause twitched, unfurling her hand, fingers splayed towards the queen and intent to kill on the tip of her tongue.  
  
The world seemed to fall silent as metal struck flesh, droplets of red staining the frosted grass below. Morgause slowly looked down at the sword protruding from her gut to the man holding her in a death grip.   
  
“Mor…dred,” Morgause spat out a wad of blood. “Traitor… what are you doing?”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Mordred whispered, turning to look Arthur in the eye. “I’m sorry…”  
  
Dread filled Arthur as sudden understanding washed over him. “MORDRED!”  
  
“ _Líeg_ _dynt_ _ús_ _niþ!_ ”  
  
All present were forced to shield their eyes as white lightning struck down, incinerating both Mordred and Morgause, leaving little more than a patch of dead grass where they had once been.  
  
Arthur fell to his knees, mouth agape. Somewhere to the side Morgana wept, wrapping her arms around her once maidservant.   
  
“ _Drakōn anepsiotēs! Antiklēsis su, arkesis anakopteon pharikon taraktikos teos domos!_ ”  
  
All eyes shot toward Merlin, who had not yet risen from the ground, Nimueh pressing her foot against the side of his face.  
  
There was an ear-splitting screech as half a dozen wyverns flew into the courtyard. Nimueh gasped, stepping back from her prisoner as the dragon-cousins swooped towards her, teeth bared and claws striking.   
  
No longer restricted, Merlin pushed himself to his feet, slowly advancing towards her. At his word the wyverns halted, circling around her as they landed but making no move to attack.  
  
“Any last words?” Merlin asked, extending the crystal of the staff towards her.  
  
Nimueh’s eyes darted to the side. “Just three: _Búl_ _cuman forecyme!_ ”  
  
Merlin sent his magic through the conduit, the power darting out towards his target just as something gleaming silver appeared in Nimueh’s hand. The Sidhe magic was drawn to the object, leaving the High Priestess unharmed.  
  
“This necklace,” Nimueh sneered. “You enchanted it to resist magical attacks, yes? How convenient.” He eyes hardened. “Call off your pets or I’ll kill them,” she nodded towards the knights standing helplessly behind them.   
  
Merlin grit his teeth. He could order the wyverns to attack but would they be able to stop her before she was able to cast a spell? “ _Emparistamai._ ”  
  
The wyverns instantly obeyed, lowering their heads as they backed off.   
  
“What do you want?” Merlin heard Arthur ask.  
  
“What do you think I want?” Nimueh snarled. “I want revenge for the injustice shown against me. And I want to kill you, _Emrys_.”  
  
“Arthur is not responsible for his father’s crimes!” Merlin shouted.  
  
“Surrender, Nimueh,” Arthur said carefully. “Nobody else has to die here.”  
  
“Why should I?” Nimueh shook her head in disbelief. “Would you let your father’s murderer live?”  
  
Merlin and Morgana flinched, but Arthur’s voice came across strong and confident. “Merlin is not responsible for my father’s death.”  
  
“But he is responsible for mine!”  
  
She wasn’t going to surrender. And she was distracted. Merlin seized the opportunity. In one fluid movement, he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the stone wall of the courtyard, pinning her body with his own. Nimueh’s eyes widened in shock as she took in his unforgiving features.  
  
“Surrender,” he told her.  
  
“Your magic won’t hurt me, Merlin,” she warned, clutching the necklace tightly.  
  
“Who said I would need to attack you with magic?”  
  
Nimueh’s face paled as the golden hilt of Excalibur lifted from the rubble across the courtyard. “A mere sword cannot kill me,” she said, but her voice revealed her fear.  
  
Merlin grinned, his eyes flashing gold.  
  
“MERLIN!!!”  
  
The warlock gasped, blood dribbling from his mouth as he felt the blade pass through his middle. “Excalibur… is no ordinary blade,” he croaked. “It was… forged in a dragon’s… breath.”  
  
“Then… you have doomed us… both,” Nimueh gave a short laugh as her eyes turned glassy, her body sagging against him as her life drained away.  
  
“So… be it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“MERLIN!” Arthur hobbled forward, unable to turn away as the bodies of both his best friend and High Priestess slumped to the ground, Excalibur pulling itself free.  
  
His exclamation seemed to snap the others out of their stupor, following their king to their fallen comrade.  
  
Arthur threw himself to his knees, carelessly rolling Nimueh aside and lifting Merlin’s head onto his lap.  
  
“She’s dead,” Leon reported, two fingers pressed to the witch’s neck.   
  
“Merlin?” Arthur called, resolutely keeping his eyes off the gaping hole in the warlock’s chest.  
  
Merlin’s eyelids flickered, his eyes rolling until the locked onto the face of his king. “…Arthur.”  
  
“You idiot! What were you thinking?!”  
  
“… Sorry… about before… didn’t mean… to…”  
  
“Merlin, I don’t care about that!”  
  
Merlin’s mouth twitched into a smile as he coughed, rolling his head to the side as he brought up blood. “1500 years…” he seemed to sigh. “Finally… over.”   
  
Arthur shook him as Merlin’s eyes slipped closed, shocking the warlock awake. “Damnit, Merlin, don’t you dare die on me! You’re supposed to be immortal!”  
  
“Excalibur… is a blade able… to kill that which… cannot be killed,” Merlin laughed once, before breaking out into another coughing fit. “Take care of… kin for me…? Kilgh…” he seemed to trip over the name, a small frown creasing his forehead. “He’s… very touchy about… sword.”  
  
“You’re not going to die,” Arthur said, but it came out as more of a plea. “You weren’t supposed to sacrifice yourself anymore!”  
  
“Freya’s… waiting…” Merlin’s words were barely audible, his eyes closing.  
  
“Merlin!” Arthur shook him, more violently this time. Merlin didn’t so much as twitch. “Merlin?!”  
  
“We need to get him to a hospital!” Gwaine announced.  
  
Percival made to take Merlin but Arthur stood, Merlin clutched to his chest, before he could.   
  
“I’ll carry him,” the king said in a way that declared no arguments. Percival nodded, aiding Gwaine in crossing the courtyard to where the boat was waiting.  
  
“ _Clifstán_ _brosne,_ ” Morgana murmured, breaking the rock still holding Elyan in place.   
  
Leon quickly came to his fellow knight’s aid, allowing him to use him as a crutch.  
  
No words were spoken as those able collected the left-over weapons and Gwen her necklace as they departed.  
  
The wyverns watched the procession in silence, their eyes falling on the still body of Nimueh once their Lord was well and truly gone.


	21. Chapter 21

Arthur shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic chair of the waiting room, being careful not to wake Gwen who was sleeping on his shoulder. It had been a number of hours since they had burst into the waiting room with a bloody and unconscious Merlin and the sun was undoubtedly up by now but the dim lighting of the hospital made it feel like it was permanently dark out.   
  
He winced as his ankle protested the movement. One of the physicians – apparently a ‘nurse’ – had wrapped it in a cloth, reassuring him it was only sprained.  
  
“Sire.”  
  
Arthur looked up to meet Leon’s gaze. “How’s your hand?”  
  
“Nothing too serious,” Leon shrugged, seating himself on Arthur’s left. “It didn’t need many stitches.”  
  
They lapsed into silence, watching the staff and visitors bustle about.  
  
“Any news yet?”  
  
“They said they would tell us when he was out of surgery,” Arthur sighed, rubbing his temple. “I take it that means he’s still in there.”  
  
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. Science has improved greatly since Camelot.”  
  
Arthur let his hand fall. “You checked on the others?”  
  
“Elyan’s leg is broken – he’ll need to have it in a cast for several weeks – and Gwaine needed stitches in his leg, but other than that it’s mainly a few minor cuts and bruises.”  
  
“Well, that’s something at least.”  
  
“What’s something?” Gwen yawned, sitting upright as she stretched.  
  
“The others are mostly fine,” Leon relayed with a small smile.  
  
“And Merlin?”  
  
“We’re yet to hear anything.”  
  
“Friends and family of Mr. Melvin Emery?”  
  
All three heads jerked towards the staff-only corridor where a young nurse holding a clipboard was waiting.  
  
“That’s us,” Arthur announced, quickly getting to his feet alongside his queen and head knight.  
  
“How is he?” Gwen asked, ringing her hands together.  
  
“He’s just come out of surgery,” the nurse smiled. “We’ll need to keep him here for a while but he’s expected to recover.”  
  
Relief that could only be compared to finding a mud-soaked Merlin after a week of searching washed over the Once and Future King.   
  
  
“Can we see him?” Gwen’s question anchored him back to the present.  
  
“One of you may see him for a few minutes.”  
  
“You go, Arthur,” Leon said instantly.  
  
“Are you sure?” Arthur frowned, surprised by how easily they had decided – king or not.  
  
“You’re the other half of the coin,” Gwen grinned and Arthur found himself wondering why that phrase felt so familiar. “We can see him later. You go.”  
  
“Alright then,” the nurse nodded. “If you’d follow me, please.”

 

* * *

 

 

The room was decently sized, containing more than one patient and small sections partitioned off by green curtains. Arthur followed the nurse past rows of beds to the one closest to the window. She silently pulled back the curtain and gave him a reassuring smile.  
  
“Just a few minutes. If you need anything, there’s a buzzer on the wall.” And, with that, she slipped back out of the room.  
  
Arthur stood beside the curtain for a long moment, paralysed by what he saw. Merlin lay still under layers of white sheets, some sort of clear mask covering his mouth and nose. There was a tube attached to the crook of his elbow and Arthur followed it with his eyes to a plastic bag filled with blood hanging on a metal hook. A white bandage was wrapped tightly around his manservant’s forehead, making his hair stick up at odd angles and the king was sure there would be more under his shirt, which had been replaced with a strange green one.  
  
Rhythmic beeping snapped Arthur out of his trance and he turned to stare at the strange machine in the corner. A red line drifted off the screen, forming a pattern of peaks.  
  
Merlin didn’t stir as he moved closer to the bed and sat in the (more comfortable) chair at his bedside.  
  
“You idiot,” he ground out, his anger palpable.  
  
Arthur sagged as his irritation fled.  
  
“…You idiot.”

 

* * *

 

 

 _Beep. Beep. Beep._  
  
Arthur watched the steady rise and fall of his friend’s chest; the only movement indicating the ancient man was still alive. He didn’t know much about new age technology, Merlin’s constant correcting that ‘it wasn’t magic’ proof enough of that, but he knew the wound had been a mortal one. If they had been back in Camelot, the warlock would already be dead.  
  
Gaius was good, but not that good.  
  
“How is he?”  
  
Arthur turned to see Gwen pull back the curtain, stepping into the small space. She made her way over to him and placed a loving hand on his shoulder but her eyes were fixed firmly on Merlin.  
  
“There’s been no change.”  
  
Gwen sighed and sat on the arm of his chair.  
  
“It’s been almost a week,” he said helplessly.  
  
“It’s strange,” Gwen bit her lip.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“Back in Camelot, a few years after you… we went for a ride and ran into bandits. Merlin… he got hit by a crossbow bolt,” she patted her left shoulder. “We thought it was a mortal wound. But his magic… it was amazing; it healed him enough that it was no longer life-threatening and in four days he was up and about like nothing had happened.”  
  
“That hasn’t happened this time,” Arthur finished for her.  
  
“Because the wound was inflicted by an immortal blade.”  
  
The two royals startled as Morgana shut the curtain behind her.  
  
“Magic cannot heal it,” she added with a sad smile, taking the chair on the opposite side of the bed. “How’s Elyan?”  
  
“He’s not overly happy about being unable to walk,” Gwen relayed. “But I think that’s proof that he’s fine.”  
  
“You went to see Gwaine?” Arthur asked.  
  
“The wound is healing nicely. The nurse said he can go home at the end of the week so long as he doesn’t do anything strenuous,” Morgana laughed silently.  
  
“He didn’t try to kill you this time?”  
  
“I must admit, he wasn’t thrilled to see me… at first.”  
  
“At first?” Gwen raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Until he saw the alcohol I brought him. He called me an angel, so I think it’s safe to assume all is forgiven… or, at least, in the past.”  
  
Gwen laughed and even Arthur found a smile tugging at his lips. But they quickly sobered with Morgana’s next question.  
  
“Any news on the dragons?”  
  
“No,” Arthur averted his gaze. “But I haven’t been home yet and it’s not like they can just turn up here.”  
  
“I hope they’re alright,” Gwen squeezed his shoulder.  
  
“They’re dragons; they’re more than capable of taking care of themselves.”  
  
“Even so,” Morgana leaned back in her chair. “I hope they turn up soon.”  
  
“Excuse me for interrupting,” a nurse stuck her head in through the curtain, easily gaining their attention. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to kick you out for a few minutes while Dr. Winters completes some routine checks.”  
  
They nodded, getting to their feet and allowed the nurse to escort them out.

 

* * *

 

 

 Merlin closed his eyes tighter, willing the voice away.

 _Merlin._  
  
Honestly, why couldn’t they just let him sleep?  
  
 _Merlin!  
  
_ Merlin startled, suddenly recognising the voice. _Kilgharrah?  
  
Yes, Merlin.  
  
Where are you? Are you alright? Where’s Aithusa?  
  
Calm down, old warlock,_ Kilgharrah seemed to laugh. _Aithusa is with me. We are both fine.  
  
Where have you been? Do you know how worried I’ve been?!  
  
There will be time for conversation at a later time. For now I must leave you; communicating from such a distance is taxing. Aithusa and I shall await you at the Lake. Rest, Merlin._  
  
  
 _Beep. Beep. Beep._  
  
Merlin groaned as the aches and pains of his body reached him.  
  
“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”  
  
“Gai…us?” Merlin frowned at the hoarseness of his voice, opening his eyes a fraction. He stared up at the stone ceiling, then allowed his eyes to rove around the familiar setting of his room in Gaius’ chambers. The man himself stood at the foot of his bed, looking intently at a book in his hands but there was a content smile on his face.  
  
He’d probably overslept again. Arthur wasn’t going to be happy.  
  
But then, slowly, time caught up with him and the scenery melted away, replaced by sterile white walls and a metal framed bed. The rhythmic beeping of a heart rate monitor off to the side only completed the symptoms of being in a hospital.  
  
But he was sure he’d heard Gaius’ voice.  
  
As his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he took another look at the man watching him.  
  
He had shorter hair than Gaius, and wore black thick-rimmed glasses. The white coat and stethoscope completed the picture of a modern doctor.   
  
“Good afternoon, Melvin,” he greeted warmly, moving to place the chart he had been reading on the heart rate monitor. “Or should I call you Merlin?”  
  
Merlin’s voice caught in his throat, only a sort of huff-like laugh escaping.  
  
“1500 years and you can’t even form a proper sentence. Well, never mind, these things happen with age.”  
  
“Gaius…” Merlin beamed at the mentor he thought he’d never get to see again.  
  
“It’s been a long time, my boy,” Gaius patted his patient’s shoulder gently. “You gave us all quite a scare.”  
  
“Excalibur,” Merlin frowned. “How am I still…?”  
  
“While it’s true an immortal blade cannot be healed with magic, science has progressed considerably. A wound that would have killed a man 1000 years ago is no longer an impossibility to heal,” Gaius pressed down on his ward, preventing him from getting up. “You need at least another day’s rest before I’ll even think of letting you move around.”  
  
“I feel like I’m dead,” Merlin sighed. “How long have I been out?”  
  
“This will be the fifth day.”  
  
“No wonder I’m stiff.”  
  
“Are you in any pain?”  
  
“A little, but nothing intolerable.” Merlin’s eyes widened. “How’s Arthur?”  
  
“Relax, Merlin,” Gaius huffed. “Arthur is fine. And before you ask, the others are fine, too.”  
  
Merlin settled back down into his pillow, considerably less stressed and suddenly exhausted.  
  
“Get some sleep, my boy.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sorry.”  
  
Arthur startled from his day dreaming and looked down at the patient on the bed. Merlin’s head was turned towards him, his eyes open a fraction. “It’s about time you got up.”  
  
“Sorry,” Merlin repeated groggily.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“For everything… for attacking you… for oversleeping…”  
  
“You forgot ‘for sacrificing yourself’.”  
  
“I’m not sorry for that,” Merlin turned his head away. “So I won’t apologise.”  
  
“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur huffed in exasperation. “That’s the one thing you _should_ be sorry for.”   
  
“Are you okay?”  
  
“I’m fine,” Arthur couldn’t help but smile. The self-sacrificing idiot. “You, on the other hand…”  
  
“I’m fine.” As if to prove his point, Merlin put his arms underneath himself and tried to sit up.   
  
Arthur rolled his eyes and helped him, rearranging the pillows so he would have something to lean against.  
  
“How long until I can leave?”  
  
“Not for a good while, I should think. That hole in your chest is more than a graze.”  
  
Merlin frowned, raising a hand to his wound. He winced at the contact and Arthur forcefully pulled his hand away. “That’s the deal with immortal blades, I guess,” he let his head fall back. “And now I guess I’m going to be stuck eating that awful hospital food.”  
  
“Doctor’s orders.”  
  
“Speaking of the doctor…”  
  
“It’s strange seeing him looks so…”  
  
“Modern?”  
  
Arthur shook his head, a smile etched on his face. “You must be thrilled.”  
  
“Just so long as I don’t have to clean out any leech tanks.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Is this _really_ necessary?” Merlin grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
“You are not putting any weight on that leg until I’m sure the wound’s not going to reopen,” Gwen replied with an air of authority as she pushed his wheelchair out into the parking lot.  
  
“Gaius,” Merlin turned to the doctor helplessly.  
  
“Sorry, my boy,” Gaius said, but he didn’t really seem all that sorry. “Can’t go against the queen.”  
  
“Cheer up, Merlin,” Arthur laughed. “At least you’re going home.”  
  
Merlin sighed but relented, allowing them to help him into the back of Gwen’s hatchback.  
  
The others were already waiting when they arrived, standing out the front with beaming smiles at the sight of them. Even if Merlin had been confined to a wheelchair.   
  
“Welcome home, mate,” Gwaine clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
Merlin nodded, moving to stand up. Gwen put both hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down.   
  
“I can walk fine, Gwen,” he protested. “Besides, Gwaine and Elyan’s legs are worse than mine but you’re letting them walk.”  
  
“Gwaine and Elyan know how to take care of themselves,” she said, not letting him go until she was sure he wasn’t going to try and get up again.   
  
“We’ve cleaned and put away your swords and the staff is in your room,” Morgana informed him as she and the others began heading back into the house.  
  
“Wait,” he called.  
  
“What now, _Mer_ lin?” Arthur teased.  
  
“I… want to try something.”  
  
“Try what?” Gwen raised an eyebrow, an unsaid ‘choose your words carefully’ hanging in the air.  
  
Merlin placed his hands on the armrests, but was stopped before he could even try to stand.  
  
“Merlin,” Gwen warned.   
  
“Oh come on! I won’t walk or anything, just let me stand,” Merlin groaned. “Someone can hold me upright if that’s what it takes. I just think it’ll work better if I’m upright.”  
  
“What will work better?”  
  
Lancelot stepped forward, slipping his arm around Merlin’s back and helping him upright. Merlin smiled in thanks. Before any of them could ask any more questions, he threw his head back and allowed his hereditary powers to flow through him.  
  
“ _O drakon, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes! Erkheo!_ ”  
  
He could feel his friends’ eyes boring into the back of his head but he ignored them, keeping his eyes trained on the sky. Three minutes passed with no change.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur called softly, his voice laced in pity.  
  
“I swear to the Triple Goddess, Kilgharrah, if you were lying to me I will put you in a tutu and call you Princess Sparkles until the end of time!” Merlin shouted.  
  
A roar pierced the sky, the silhouette of two dragons blocking out the sun. A tongue of flames erupted from the smaller of the two.  
  
Merlin grinned from ear to ear in a way he hadn’t for a painfully long time.   
  
“That will not be necessary, old warlock,” Kilgharrah said disapprovingly as he and Aithusa landed in the small clearing.   
  
Nobody tried to stop him as Merlin hobbled towards them. Lancelot helped him to the ground, being careful to keep the pressure off his injured leg. Aithusa happily bounded into the warlock’s arms, and while Kilgharrah frowned, he did not try to pull away when Merlin roped him in.  
  
Without warning, Merlin pushed them both back. “Where have you two been?! I thought Nimueh had… especially when the house was in such a state!”  
  
“Nimueh did indeed break through your barrier,” Kilgharrah confirmed. “But she had not expected to find us.”  
  
“We took her by surprise,” Aithusa snickered devilishly. “And and look!” she suddenly spun around, proceeding to set a bush on fire. “We learned to use our flame!”  
  
Merlin couldn’t help but laugh as he used his magic to put out the fire. “So I take it the house was trashed because of you, then.”  
  
Aithusa had the decency to look sheepish.   
  
“She tried to catch us but we escaped,” the white dragon continued. “And flew waaaaay further than I thought we could.”  
  
“We heard your call, Merlin,” Kilgharrah added. “However our energy ran out before we could make it back here.”  
  
“Oooh! Oooh!” Aithusa suddenly darted into the house, returning a minute later with a chalice in her mouth. “Look what we found while we were waiting for you!” she exclaimed around the metal object.  
  
“Is that…?” Leon trailed off.  
  
“The Cup of Life,” Merlin shook his head as he took it from her. “Where on Earth did you find this?”  
  
“On the shore of the Lake of Avalon,” Kilgharrah replied.   
  
“You’re kidding.”  
  
“No, it was really there!” Aithusa stopped, catching sight of Morgana and Gwen. With a single flap of her wings she’d closed the distance between them, happily accepting the attention the two women were more than happy to give her.  
  
“Come on,” Morgana forced herself to stop stroking the white dragon and stood. “Let’s get something to eat that’s _not_ that awful stuff hospitals try to pass off as food.”  
  
“There’s one more thing I want to do,” Merlin made eye contact with Kilgharrah. “If it’s possible.”  
  
“If you are willing,” the dragon replied. “If anyone can do it, Merlin, it is you.”

 

* * *

 

 

They all followed the ancient down the worn path to the shore of the lake. Some could venture a guess as to what he was planning, but others were equally clueless. They watched with mixed emotions as he stood at the water’s edge, the Cup clasped firmly in his right hand.  
  
“Freya!”  
  
The calm waters lapped lazily around his now drenched shoes. But the Lady of the Lake did not appear.  
  
“Freya!” Merlin tried again. He was painfully aware of the number of times he’d tried this over the last thousand years without success. But, right now, he _needed_ her to come.  
  
“Merlin,” Gwen took a step towards him. “I don’t think–”  
  
“No. She’ll come. She has to come,” Merlin replied without turning. “Freya!”  
  
“Maybe if we tried bribing her with Excalibur?” Gwaine suggested, taking his place beside Merlin. “Oi, Freya!” he addressed the lake. “We don’t need Excalibur anymore! It’s safer with you, isn’t it?!”  
  
Merlin spared him a brief glance before returning his attention to the lake.  
  
“Come on, Freya!” Lancelot stood on Merlin’s other side. “If you don’t do something about it, Gwaine’s going to go around stabbing things to see if they’ll explode!”  
  
“I’ll do it!” Gwaine threatened.  
  
“Don’t leave us hanging, Freya,” Elyan added, joining them.   
  
“I never got to meet you properly,” Gaius acknowledged. “And I should like to apologise properly for what happened.”  
  
“I likewise would like to apologise,” Leon frowned sadly. “We did you a great crime that night.”  
  
“Freya,” Gwen linked arms with her brother. “I’d really like to get to know you!”  
  
“Me, too!” Aithusa cried. “And Grumpy Scales, but he won’t admit it,” she snickered at her elder.  
  
“Freya, you can’t ignore all of us,” Percival smiled.  
  
“You’d have to be crazy to ignore Emrys,” Morgana threw her arm around said warlock’s shoulders. “He has a pretty nasty temper, you know!”  
  
“It’s cause he’s old,” Arthur teased. “These things happen with age.” He cleared his throat meaningfully. “Freya, I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, order you to show yourself!”  
  
The waves started to pick up, the waters moving as if a storm was beginning to form. Slowly, out of the depths Freya appeared, her face tear streaked but a smile on her lips.  
  
“Who am I to disobey the Once and Future King?” she laughed, wiping her eyes.  
  
Merlin pulled free of the congregation that had formed on the lake edge, meeting her half way.   
  
“What is it you need of me?” she asked, embracing him.  
  
Merlin bent down, scooping some of the water into the Cup. “Drink it,” he said, holding it towards her.  
  
“Merlin–”  
  
“Do you trust me?”  
  
“Of course, but–”  
  
“Then drink it.”  
  
Freya stared at him long and hard. She seemed to come to a decision, taking the Cup in her hands and bringing it to her lips. Even as she drank, Merlin’s eyes flared gold, tendrils of magic visibly swirling around her like leaves on the wind. As the magic died down, he clasped her hand, leading her towards the shore.  
  
“Merlin,” she stopped at the edge where grass met water.  
  
“Trust me,” he repeated, not letting her go.   
  
Freya opened her mouth to protest.  
  
“Trust me.”  
  
The Lady of the Lake sighed, taking that final step onto dry land. She stood in a stupor, looking down at her feet then back at the lake behind her. “What? How?”  
  
“Special circumstances,” was all Merlin offered before the former Lady was swarmed by the bystanders, all eager to greet her properly.  
  
“I think we should buy a cow.”


	22. Epilogue

Merlin grinned at his king, admiring the quality of the red cape and golden crown. The girls had worked together to make it, two of whom were standing off to the right in regal gowns of ladies of the court.   
  
The knights stood to the left, dressed in their chainmail and matching capes, swords fastened to their belts. It brought a great sense of nostalgia washing over him and he didn’t mind in the least that he looked out of place in his jacket, blue shirt and neckerchief.  
  
They’d wanted it authentic, after all.   
  
And there was Gwen, beautiful in royal purple, walking towards them with Aithusa (in her dog form); there was no need to scare the guests. They’d taken the idea of Arthurian theme surprisingly well, all dressed in costumes of what modern people took to be medieval attire. Merlin thought they looked a bit silly, to be honest. But nothing could spoil this day.  
  
Arthur took his queen’s hand as she reached him, guiding her up the few steps to stand beside him.  
  
Merlin locked eyes with Freya on the other side of the alter, flashing her a beaming smile before returning his attention to the two royals.  
  
“Dearly beloved,” Gaius began. The doctor-once-physician had protested to playing this role but Gwen and Arthur had insisted. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of Arthur Pence and Gwendolyn Corbin.”  
  
It had taken a while, but Merlin had managed to forge identification documents for Arthur and Freya so they existed in the eyes of the government – much like he had for himself numerous times over the course of his life. And unlike the time with Lancelot, this time they wouldn’t be detectable as fakes. Merlin couldn’t help an internal sigh of relief at the thought that he would never have to do so again.   
  
Exchanging his immortality for Freya’s life was a win-win no matter how he looked at it.  
  
Kilgharrah glared at him as he came down the aisle, a small cushion holding two rings – the real things that Merlin had been entrusted at Gwen’s death – tied to his neck. The Great Dragon had been less thrilled with his role than Gaius had, but Merlin found the tutu threat worked well on all occasions. Besides, he was sure in a few years – or a few hundred – Kilgharrah would look back on the experience and be glad he had participated. Even if it was ‘demeaning’ and ‘how dare he suggest such a thing’.  
  
Merlin was pulled back to the present as Gaius pronounced them husband and wife. Arthur leaned down, his lips meeting Gwen’s as the sun set over the lake in the background.  
  
For perhaps the first time in 1500 years, everything was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> IDOM


End file.
